Somewhere in the Mist
by darksupernatural
Summary: Something is causing ships to sink in the Northeast once a year on the same date, at the same time. The brothers go to investigate and one of them literally winds up in over his head. Requested by skag trendy. Something about the Titanic. R&R PLEASE!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, here's the story some of you know I've been putting a lot of time into lately. The standard disclaimers apply and no matter how much it sucks I don't make any money from this, don't own the guys. ( Oh how I wish I did!) The names of the people that would be considered mine aren't. They came from a passenger manifest. I just made up their personalities and looks. You'll understand soon enough. By the way, I didn't own the Titanic either. Any similarities to anything in Maine or anywhere else is because of a lot of late night net surfing for research. SORRY IF ANYTHING IS OFF. Seems like someone always tells me that they've been to a particular place I write about and it's wrong. I've only been to Maine in a tractor trailer. Sat in back on the bunk and didn't see jack!  
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**This story has a lot, and I do mean A LOT, of creative liberty taken with it. Some events actually happened and are recorded in history-don't look for anything I used here to be documented other than time lines and something about the mist. Please forgive anything that doesn't ring quite right. I'm sorry if you notice, because it means that you're not enjoying it enough not to notice. This one would be set s3 and maybe just before we got the new episodes. A piece of the hull plating of TITANIC was lifted from the ocean on April 15, 1998. This story is time lined to start on April 12, 2008. The anniversary of the raising of the hull plate is significant in the story. Also something happens later on... well, I'll tell you about that later on.  
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**Skag trendy, you challenged me to this. I hope it doesn't disappoint. I know its not exactly what you sent me but this is what popped into my head so I hope it works. I loved writing it and if it flops...well, I still loved it. HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL. THIS IS FOR YOU.**

**SHOUT OUTS: Blue Peanut M&M, Sammygirl1963: You've let me bounce scenes off you girls and it has been an immense kick in the arse in helping me feel better about taking on something this monumental for me. My longest, weirdest fic is coming up. Hope you girls enjoy the rest of the story and the scenes you liked so much don't lose anything.**

**Merisha: Thanks again for the beautiful sketch. I took my fic to work for a friend of mine to read and she had the same reaction I did when she first saw it. She cried.**** Come to think of it my moms did too! **** It's so perfect. CHECK IT OUT ON HER HOMEPAGE EVERYBODY!! Its perfect. Drop her a line too! THANK YOU GIRL!!  
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**So anyway, I'm done ranting now. I seriously think this story has damaged me;D) ENJOY AND I HOPE TO HEAR FROM YOU ALL. Hope you really like...**

**Somewhere in the Mist**

**Chapter 1**

Sam glanced up from the laptop on the Formica table in front of him. "So, I think I found something." He said, taking another bite of his donut and a swallow of coffee to wash the sweet glaze down his throat.

"A hunt?" Dean asked, coming up to the table from where he had been sitting on the bed. He slid behind Sam and leaned over his shoulder, looking at the computer screen.

"I think so. Says here, in the past nine years nine ships have sank off the coast of Maine, in the exact same location. It took a while to put it together but every single ship has gone down on April 15th, at just after two a.m. There were reports of the ships seeming to 'hit' something in the water a couple hours earlier. There were also reports of a low lying mist over the ocean limiting visibility for the crew aboard the ships."

"And you think this makes for a hunt?"

"Think about it Dean. The years, the ships, all the same circumstances, all the same night and time. It sounds like the thing with the airplanes going down all at exactly forty minutes in. Y'know, the demon on the plane that gave us such a hard time?"

"Think this is another demon?"

"I'm not sure. I have to do more research I think."

"April 15th. We have three days to find out, geek boy."

"Dude. If we're going to find out what this is we need to get to Bar Harbor, Maine. That's where all the ships that have gone down have last left port."

Dean shrugged and grinned. "At least it's not more freakin' planes."

_Bar Harbor, Maine. Twelve hours later._

Dean walked back to the Impala after checking out the shipping office for Bar Harbor Freight Company. It was Sunday. The office was closed. Dean shut the door and looked at his brother. He grinned. "I think I got our way onto a ship to figure out what the hell we're hunting." He held up a piece of paper, "HELP WANTED" screamed at them in crudely scrawled block letters.

"Well," Sam said. "Looks like we're sailors looking for work then." Dean threw the sign in Sam's lap and fired the Impala's engine. A couple miles down the road he found a shabby but clean, and more importantly, cheap motel and checked them in.

Sam lugged his bag and laptop inside while Dean did the same and returned to the Impala for a bag stuffed full of weapons that needed cleaned. Inside the bag were knives that needed sharpened, guns that needed rock salt residue swabbed away so they didn't corrode, and an EMF reader that was so busted from Dean's last collision with a wall that he didn't know if he should fix it or toss it.

"Dean, there's something bugging me about this hunt." Sam said as he opened and booted up the laptop, finding a slow but usable signal with the WiFi receiver Dean had gotten after a very successful hustled game of high stakes poker. Dean glanced up at Sam from the gun he'd just started cleaning.

"What's buggin' you Sammy?"

"Well, basically this whole thing."

"Well, that's specific." Dean said sarcastically, going back to the gun in his hands and waiting for his brother to pipe up again in the way that was characteristically _Sam_.

"Shut up." Sam said, rolling his eyes. He cast a glance back at the screen as he pulled up those newspaper articles again. "What I mean is it doesn't act like a demon."

"Clarify?"

"It acts more like a vengeful spirit. The repetition, the fact that it's the same time, the same day and the same…well, everything."

"So what then? Water Wraith?"

"Dunno. I'm gonna do some more research." Dean pushed himself up from the bed and set the now clean gun on the second bed in the room.

"I'm gonna go get us some grub. Any particulars?"

"Burgers are fine as long as they don't still moo." Sam said, not looking up from the blue screen in front of him. Dean returned with supper and coffee about a half hour later. Sam sat the laptop aside as Dean joined him at the wobbly little table in the corner of the room.

"Figure anything out yet, Sammy?"

"Just more questions." Sam said as he dug into the bag and extracted his foil wrapped burger. He reached back in and his fingers brushed a Styrofoam cup. "What's this?"

"New England clam chowder. 's good. Had some at the diner." Dean said, pulling a spoon from the bag and holding it out to Sam.

"When in Rome." Sam said. Popping the plastic lid off the container he dug in to find it _was_ good. Dean finished eating ahead of Sam and moved to the bed. Picking his duffel up off the floor, he rifled through it to pull out sweats and a t-shirt.

"I'm gonna grab a shower and hit the hay. I guess we have an interview to go to tomorrow."

"Yeah, guess we do." Sam said as he finished eating. He flipped the laptop back open, sinking into the research again, something still bothering him about this hunt. Dean emerged some fifteen minutes later from a cloud of steam, rubbing a towel over his spiky golden hair.

Dean tossed the towel onto the duffel on the bed and then moved the whole lot to the floor at the foot. Flopping down, he glanced at his little brother's troubled face. "Don't stay up late, Sammy." Dean closed his eyes after burying his head in the pillow he tucked his hands up under. His fist curled around the hilt of the hunting knife he'd put there in its sheath. Sam researched for another hour, repeatedly stifling yawns before he flipped the laptop closed. He grabbed some sweats and a t-shirt himself and went into the bathroom to change. Washing his face woke him up for all of the two minutes he spent brushing his teeth before his eyelids were drooping again. He went back into the bedroom and flopped onto his own bed, the one furthest from the door. Closing his eyes he forced his mind to stop and drifted off to sleep.

_Monday, April 13__th__. _

The rumbling of the Impala's engine cut through the chilly April morning as the car pulled to a stop in front of the freight company office. Dean stepped from the car, coffee in hand. Sam followed suit, his own foam cup warming his hands. They pushed open the door to a ringing bell and walked up to the receiving desk where a tired looking receptionist was talking on the phone and looking like she was about to cry.

"Look, I know you want that shipment but we're short on crew right now…." She stopped talking and Dean heard the voice on the other end of the line ring out with anger even from where he stood a couple feet away. He looked at Sam and raised an eyebrow.

"No, no, we don't want to lose your contract but…" she was interrupted again. "Yes, sir. Yes, we'll make the run." She hung up the phone looking dejected and scared. Finally glancing up she looked over the Winchesters. "May I help you?"

Dean smiled that winning smile and pulled the paper he'd snaked yesterday from his back pocket. Opening it up he put it down on her desk and spun it to face her. "We want the jobs, if there's more than one available."

"There's actually room for three able bodied seamen." A man's clear voice rang out from behind them and they turned to take in a tall muscular man. He had sun bleached brown hair with gray at the temples. Although he appeared to be close to John's age he was fit, standing just an inch shorter than Dean. "I'm Barry Davidson. I own Bar Harbor Freight. You boys are looking for jobs?"

"Yes, sir." Dean answered. "I'm Dean, this is my brother Sam."

"Ever work on the ocean before?"

"Grew up around it sir. Our dad was a Marine." Sam said, the lie forming smoothly on his lips.

"No offense meant but," Dean asked, "why are you short on crew?"

"None taken. You boys aren't from around here are you?"

"No, we're from North Carolina. Worked for about a year at the Port of Wilmington."

"Look, normally we have a fully manned freight ship but with this being a small port and with everything that's happened around here, the regular sailors are getting skittish."

"What's happened?" Sam asked, looking at Dean.

"Ships are sinking. There was one last year. A cargo ship that docked here after coming from Italy, before it was suppose to go to go to California. It left and got about a hundred miles off the coast before it reported a load shift or something and sunk a couple hours later. Forty five of the crew of sixty died. Looking back, it's happened every year since before I went into business here."

"Does anyone know why?" Sam asked again.

"No. Listen guys, I have to warn you. I have the jobs open, but it's not going to be easy work. We're a small company; normally have about twenty hard working guys at any one time. Because of … what's going on we only have about six working so we've scaled back on the runs and are only using a ship half the size we normally do. She's 150 feet long and holds about twenty five tons of cargo. We're running lumber mostly. We load and unload with cranes by hand. It's pretty labor intensive and I need a couple guys that hook the boom chains up to the crane's cables and then unhook when the load goes over the side and lands on the docks."

"We're not afraid of a little hard work." Dean said.

"Good. Welcome aboard the Bar Harbor Freight Company and the cargo ship _Versa_." Barry said as he shook first Dean's hand and then Sam's. "I'll take you to the ship and show you the rig you'll be manning as Stevedores. You guys up for a run this week?"

"Countin' on it." Dean said.

Barry led the way to a small pier and a cargo ship docked there. The_ Versa._ She was already loaded down with what looked to be barrel makings. Crates of iron and steel rings and pallets of shrink wrapped wooden slats filled the cargo hold. Barry introduced them to Rick, the helmsman and Barry's partner in the business and two other sailors that functioned as crane operator and mechanic.

"So where will we be going?" Sam asked.

"Italy. Italian wine barrels are what is in the cargo hold. Which reminds me, give Sarah your passports and driver's licenses so she can get you on the payroll and visa papers. We leave port tomorrow."

"Is there somewhere safe I'll be able to park my car?" Dean asked. Sam rolled his eyes and punched his brother in the arm. Barry caught the look the brothers shared and smirked.

"What is she?"

"'67 Chevy Impala."

"Park her in the garage when you boys show up tomorrow. She'll be safe there. My Olds is in there. You can take the bay next to that. So, I'll see you guys at four tomorrow evening. That's when we're authorized to leave."

"We'll be here." Sam said.

_April 14__th__, 2008._

Barry watched the sleek black car pull into the garage and knew that his two new workers had shown up. He watched the two young men exit the car and make their way over to him.

"Evenin' guys. Nice car Dean."

"Thanks. She means a lot to me."

"I bet she does. It's the same with my Olds." Barry said, pointing to his sapphire blue two-door '64.

"She's a beauty." Sam said, looking the car over.

"So guys, are you ready to work hard and go to Italy?"

"We're ready." Dean said. They pulled two duffel bags from the car, each containing a couple changes of clothing and more importantly necessary and easily hidden weapons and salt and followed Barry aboard the _Versa._ Once there he showed them the bunks they would use in a small room just off the cargo hold and the rigging they would become very familiar with. An hour later everything needed to begin the journey was done and the guys settled in for a trip through the frigid April Ocean, the potential for a hunt keeping them on high alert.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

Darkness settled in around the _Versa _an hour ago and Barry had decided not to travel any further_. _He and the other two men were playing cards at a table in the helm room. The darkness instantly made Sam and Dean more aware of their surroundings, hunters on the prowl. Dean stood closer to Sam, falling into that protective big brother mode he didn't even realize came as naturally as breathing. It wasn't because of those words, that _'Watch out for Sammy, Dean'_ that Dean would gladly take a bullet, a set of claws, or even a one way trip to hell for his brother. It was because of the night that his mom and dad had brought Sammy home from the hospital. It was because of those first five minutes, when little Sammy had opened sleepy hazel eyes in a red face and smiled a toothless smile at Dean when his mom had said 'Sammy, meet your big brother Dean.' Dean felt for the gun he had stashed in his waistband, a small caliber pistol loaded with Bobby's special rock salt bullets. He breathed a sigh of relief that it was there and he could do something to protect his brother and the people aboard the ship.

"Dean." Sam whispered, trying not to attract the attention of the three men sitting near the helm.

"Yeah Sammy?"

"I'm still not a hundred percent sure if this is a water wraith or something else."

"I know. Whatever it is we'll take it. This ship is not going to sink I can tell you that." They were quiet for a moment, content to stand shoulder to shoulder at the rail of the ship. Sam looked off into the distance to notice a low lying, thick, white mist shrouding the Ocean horizon. The fog seemed to move in and surround the boat quickly as Dean stood straight and moved away from the rail, the mist now having his attention. He heard the other men take notice and start to move onto the deck with mutterings of "What the hell?" and "When did that roll in?"

"Sammy, move away from the rail." Dean said as Sam continued to stare into the mist, somewhat entranced by a glow he saw in the distance. Dean pulled his pistol and moved to step in front of Sam and herd him backwards towards the center. His hearing caught something he thought may have been… _what the hell? Whispers?_ Before he had the chance to reach Sam's side, the ship rocked violently tossing him off his feet and into the raised doors of the cargo hold. His gun went flying, sailing over the rail to land in the ocean. His head and shoulders hit hard and as an explosion of white crossed his vision he saw his brother's head hit the side of the rail before his body flipped over the side. "SAMMY!" Dean yelled out into the mist as his ears caught a splash over the noise of the men and a still violently tossing ship. He pushed himself to his feet, grasping whatever he could on the deck to stay that way as he lurched the several feet to the rail. He looked over to see nothing but the white mist that had completely surrounded the cargo ship.

"Dean!" Barry hollered as he saw Dean leaning over the rail on the still rocking ship.

"Help me. Sam got knocked over the rail when the ship lurched!"

"Guys, get to the rigs. Rick, get that searchlight and start panning it around close to the ship. He has to be close." Rick lit up a powerful spot light and cut a swath through the fog as he panned it over the ocean. Dean noticed that the fog seemed to retreat when the light touched it. Barry and the other man, the crane operator helped Dean scour the ocean visually for signs of Sam.

Dean followed the light Rick was shining onto the waves. "Sammy! Sam, answer me man!" Something crossed the edge of the light. Dean saw a flash of white.

"Wait, wait!" Dean said, pointing frantically to a spot off in the water. "There! Over there!" Barry panned the light to the spot Dean was gesturing to. The powerful beam cut through the mist to highlight something in the water. "Oh God! SAMMY!" Dean screamed, seeing the light illuminate the back of Sam's head, bobbing face first in the water. Sam's lanky frame was suspended in the water, at the mercy of the waves, his arms floating akimbo of his body. "SAM!" Dean jumped the rail and plummeted to the frigid water. He landed with a smack, sinking beneath the surface as the shock of the water stunned him. He broke the surface, swimming strongly as the boat circled quickly and came up to stop near where Dean now was flipping Sam's unresponsive body over in the water, gripping him in a cross chest hold. Sam's head lolled back against Dean's right shoulder, his face waxen, and lips blue tinged. Blood, mixed with sea water, trailed down his temple to seep into his sodden white button down shirt. "Sammy, c'mon breathe!" Dean struggled to hold his heavy body up out of the water, keeping his head above the water.

"DEAN!" Barry was against the rail, throwing a life jacket connected to a rope into the water. "Try to put it on and hang on to him. We'll haul you up!" The waves on the choppy sea came up to crest over the Winchesters' heads, leaving Dean sputtering and Sam slipping in his arms.

"Sammy. Don't do this." Dean cried desperately, trying to get a firmer grip on his brother while struggling to tread water in the direction of the floating piece of hope that was just a few yards away. "Please," He near whispered, hoping for once they'd catch a break. He reached for the life jacket and latched onto it with rapidly numbing fingers. "GOT IT!"

"Good! Try to put it on." Barry called over the sound of the waves. Dean fought to hang on to the red and white jacket and Sam and settled for wrapping one arm through the shoulder holes and then putting the arm tight around Sam again, clutching his brother to him as he fought against another crest in the waves that broke over their heads. He sputtered again and choked out a yell.

"PULL US IN! I GOT HIM, JUST PULL US IN!" Barry and Rick, Barry's partner in the freight charter business, gripped the rope and hauled against the current to bring the two heavy men back onto the boat. Dean felt his hands numbing and struggled to keep his hold on Sam. Dean was hauled backwards by the men pulling, his back and shoulders hitting the side of the boat with about the same force of the last hit he'd taken from a poltergeist that had tried to leave his full body outline in the moldy drywall of an abandoned motel. He choked when the air was knocked from his lungs and nearly dropped his brother. He felt the pull on his arm as they began hauling them up the side of the boat, about twenty feet, and then he felt the men grasp his shoulders. Both he and the brother he'd barely managed to hang on to landed hard on the deck of the boat, Sam sprawled atop Dean. Dean's head hit the smooth deck hard enough to make him see stars, Sam's weight knocking the wind from his lungs yet again. Barry pulled Sam from Dean's arms and laid him flat on the deck. Sam's face was blue. Dean hauled himself upright in time to see Barry start compressions on Sam's chest, pushing hard. "Sammy!" Dean half crawled, half stumbled to his brother's side, shivering. He gripped Sam's shoulder with numb fingers and stared at his brother's lifeless face. "Man, don't you do this. DON'T YOU DO THIS!" Sam's body was moving beneath Dean's hand with the force of the ceaseless compressions that Barry was doing. Dean jumped when sea water spewed from Sam's mouth, flowing back over his face to join the water already on the deck. Sam coughed violently, his eyes remaining closed. Dean barely registered the feel of an emergency blanket circling his shoulders, placed there by Rick.

Rick placed another emergency blanket over Sam and spoke. "I'm gonna get us back to shore. He needs a hospital."

Dean looked up at that. "How far out are we?"

"Two hours, maybe more. That's at full throttle. In this fog…?"

"Barry, help me get him safe. I'll check him over. Rick, get us to shore as soon as ya can."

"Will do." Rick headed to the helm. Turning the medium sized ship in a wide arc he punched the throttle and headed back to port. Dean staggered to his feet, finally realizing how cold he was as the blanket slid away from his body. His teeth immediately began to chatter. Dean stooped and hauled Sam gently to a sitting position, the other heat retaining foil sliding away to pool on the deck, billowing in the wind. Barry slid in on the other side and helped haul Sam from the deck. Together the two staggered under his weight until they got him to Barry's cabin.

"We gotta get him dry." Barry said as he lowered Sam's feet to the floor. Dean eased down, pulling Sam into his lap. Sam was still beyond shivering, unconscious, with blood trailing sluggishly down his face. Dean checked his pulse to find it strong. Barry turned up the heat in the cabin, and threw the covers back on his bunk. Dean was looking at Sam, lost as to what to do when Barry eased down by his side.

"Dean, snap outta it. We need to get those wet clothes off him and get him warm. Shock and Hypothermia are not what he needs. That goes for you too."

"Yeah, okay." Dean said, moving a hand to the buttons on Sam's shirt. Barry helped ease him out and soon they had him in sodden boxers and nothing else. Dean lifted his brother, refusing Barry's help and laid him on the bed, quickly pulling the covers to his chin.

"I'm gonna go for the first aid kit. He's got a nasty gash on his head." Barry left the cabin and Dean slid a hand under the warm blankets and removed Sam's boxers while the man was gone. He reached for a small blanket that was gracing the arm of the chair that sat in the corner of the cabin, bolted to the floor of the boat. He put the throw under the blankets and tucked it around Sam's waist. Sam never moved.

Barry returned to the cabin with the med kit. Dean took it from him with hands that he had to force to stop shaking. Barry watched silently for a moment before asking, "I can do this. Why don't you go get into some dry clothes?"

Dean shook his head, his wet hair still matted to his head instead of standing up in its usual golden spikes. "I've got it. Then I'll go change." Barry nodded mutely and turned up the heat some more. Dean cleaned Sam's wound, the two inch gash that ran from his hairline to his left eyebrow. Dean set about doing the tiny stitches that would allow the wound to heal with as little scarring as possible. He steeled his hands and pulled the needle and cotton through Sam's skin. Again, and again, and again. When he was finished he cleaned the blood that had seeped from the new aggravation of the wound and bandaged it with gauze. He ran a hand, now shaking with cold and mind shattering weariness, through Sam's damp hair and down his cheek. He lifted his gaze to Barry and Barry stared when his own brown eyes met startling green shining with tears.

"Seven stitches." Dean whispered. "Seven stitches and he didn't flinch. Not once." Dean stroked his brother's cheek, one that was now starting to feel warm again, somewhat human even if it was way too soft and lax to be _Sam._ "Where are you Sammy?"

_Somewhere in the Mist, April 14, 1912_

A young woman with long golden hair had strolled to the rail to watch in fascination the way the proud Titanic cut through the ocean. She stood near the back of the ship's impressive deck, watching the wake the ship left as the wind stirred her loose hair. The ship lurched as if it had hit a 'bump' in the sea and she reached for the rail to steady herself. She had cut her blue eyes to the side of the boat and saw a head of dark hair bobbing in the water. "There's someone in the water!" A man ran to her side, dressed in light colored tan breeches and a white shirt. Although dressed casually he had the unmistakable air of power rippling around him. A crew member took down a life preserver and moved quickly to the side of the rail. "Help him!" The crewman looked hesitant about throwing the preserver in the water and the man snatched it from his hands, sending it into the water with an ease and precision that had the young woman looking at the man with the longer golden brown hair, pulled back in a leather thong. She cast her eyes back to the man in the water and saw him reach weakly for the white and red ring that promised rescue. "Oh please." She murmured. She leaned over the rail and her worry got the best of her. "HOLD ON!" She screamed above the waves. The man hauled the rope against him, and began pulling, tugging the dark haired man through the water as he clung to the preserver. Several crew men came over and lent a hand, quickly pulling the sodden man up and over the rail, allowing him to collapse, gasping and cold, to the polished wood deck of the first class promenade.

The man leaned in over Sam as he fell back against the deck gasping, quickly catching his head to keep it from hitting. "Easy. Take it easy. That would have been quite a fall you took there."

Something was familiar to Sam's hazy mind about the man's voice and he blinked against the salt water in his eyes until his vision cleared. "Dean?" Sam half choked out. The man leaned closer to catch Sam's muddled words allowing Sam to get a closer look at the strong jaw, dusted with dark stubble, the nose that was graced with a smattering of freckles, and the hair that was still golden brown and shiny even if it was longer and pulled back, although the leather thong had allowed shorter strands to escape and fly in the breeze. It penetrated Sam's befuddled mind that this was and yet wasn't Dean. "What happened?" Sam asked, pushing up on his elbows just to fall back. The man caught him again.

"I'm Duane Williams, friend. I believe you fell off the ship at the bow. What's say we get you out of those wet clothes? Where's your cabin?" Duane questioned Sam as he helped him stand. Sam wavered and felt something warm slide down the side of his head to his neck. The woman who was watching from the rail gasped. Concern flared in Duane's bright green eyes as he struggled to keep Sam upright in his arms.

"He's bleeding!" She stepped forward and pulled a lace handkerchief from her shawl pocket. She gingerly touched it to the side of his head. He winced and slid nearly to his knees as blackness closed in on him. Duane strengthened his grip and held Sam up. Moving them both, he eased Sam down on a lounger near the promenade.

"You cracked your head when you fell? That's why you're confused." Duane got down in a crouch and lifted Sam's head, taking the kerchief from the woman. "Thank you, miss…"

"Emily." She said; concern in her eyes. "Is he going to be alright?"

A man in a black suit and white shirt stalked across the promenade, attracted by the nervous attention the stranger seemed to be getting. "Emily, just what do you think you're doing?" He scolded as he got her by the arm and spun her to face him.

"He fell off the ship when it lurched a little while ago. I was helping, Robert."

Robert glanced over at the blond man and the bedraggled looking stranger. "Leave him to the riff-raff. He's obviously of that class." Robert sneered, looking over Sam's dark denim pants and loosely worn sodden white button down.

"He's human." Emily said; irate that class was all her fiancé thought about. "Sometimes that's more than I can say for you." She pulled her arm out of his grasp and stalked away, but not before throwing a small smile at the man with the golden hair and the other, the fascinating stranger.

Duane had glanced up at Emily's hushed, obviously angry voice. "You should take care that you don't cost yourself a woman like that. She's a heroine,_ friend._ Might do you well to remember that." Duane said. He turned back to the man he'd pulled out of the water. Sam was looking around, taking in his surroundings with a bemused look on his face.

Sam glanced to the wall of the enclosed Promenade. A sign caught his eye, a plaque. "Holy…" _How the hell? I'm on the Titanic?!_ Sam's heart started to pound, his ears roaring with his own blood and a shout for help never leaving his chest. _Dean!_ He turned to catch the end of something Duane was saying.

"…name?"

"Pardon?" Sam asked; confused as to why he seemed to be seeing things through a tunnel.

"I asked you what your name is. I think, though, we should have you checked by the doctor before we find your cabin."

"No, that's really okay. I don't need a doctor. My name is Sam. I can find my own cabin. Thank you for helping me though. I'm fine, honest." Sam said as he pushed himself off the lounger to stand upright. The change in height made the tunnel Sam was seeing everything through shrink. His ears began to ring and he found the floor of the promenade rushing up to meet him. Duane wrapped his arms around Sam and locked his muscular legs to stop his descent to the floor, which wouldn't do his head any favors.

"Sure you are." Duane muttered as Sam's eyes closed. Duane cast a glance about and saw a crew member of the ship. "Steward? Would you mind helping me get him to my cabin?"

"Do you wish for me to find out which cabin is his? He appears to be a steering class passenger."

"I only know his name is Sam. And it shouldn't matter what class he is to you crewman."

"Yes sir. Sorry sir." The man stepped up to Sam's right side and gingerly got a hold of Sam's arm, flinging the limp appendage around his neck. The two of them dragged Sam to the elevator. Going down to A-deck the steward and Duane soon had Sam settled in Duane's cabin on the bed.

"Shall I fetch the ship's doctor?"

"No. I'll send for him if I think it's necessary. Thank you." Duane said as he handed the steward a tip of two dollars, ensuring the steward would both keep his mouth shut and not do anything about a seemingly third class passenger in a first class cabin.

The man left with a huge smile on his face and the comment. "If you need anything else sir, just let me know." Duane locked the cabin door and looked at Sam lying on the bed. "What is it with these people and class? Life and saving life, that's all it's about. Idiots." Duane rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt to the mid point of his forearms and got a damp face cloth from his bathroom. "First class accommodations do have their privileges." He went to the bed and wiped drying blood gently from Sam's head. Sam's brow furrowed and hazel eyes opened seconds after.

"Uunnnhh. What happened?" Sam asked, still slightly confused, as he sat upright on the bed. Memories slammed themselves home and he stood up way too fast. Duane caught him as he wavered.

"Don't pass out on me again Sam."

"I'm okay I think." Sam muttered as he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. He opened his eyes and looked around the opulent suite of rooms. "It's real." He muttered under his breath.

"What?" Duane asked.

"Nothing. Thank you for helping me back there. I don't quite know what happened. I mean one minute I was on the deck and the next I was in the water. Seemed like the boat hit something and… Oh whoa…" Sam let his voice trail off.

"What is it Sam?"

Sam was looking around the cabin with a different eye. "Hunter." He muttered. He stood straight and backed away warily. "You're a hunter. I see the wards. The protection symbols."

"Who are you?" Duane asked menacingly, suspicious now of the stranger that knew what he did, was steadily putting together why he was aboard the ship. He quickly pulled a knife and advanced on Sam.

"Hey, hey, wait. Look, I'm a hunter too okay. I just don't know how I got… here."

"Prove it." Duane menaced, shoving Sam into the wall of the cabin and holding the knife to his throat. Sam held up both hands in a gesture of surrender before slowly reaching under his shirt for the charm he wore on a leather thong. He gingerly pulled it out from beneath his slowly drying shirt and showed Duane. The other hunter pulled the cord from Sam's neck around Sam's flinch and looked closely at the charm, the knife never leaving Sam's throat, Duane's eyes flitting back and forth between the charm and Sam's face. Duane stepped back and dropped the knife.

"You believe me?" Sam asked cautiously.

"I've seen the charm you showed. It's real enough. What are you doing here?"

"It's a long story I don't have all the chapters of."

"Well then, let's get you some dry clothes and hear what you have."

_April 14, 2008._

"I need you to wake up Sammy. Please?" Dean said as he continued to stroke his brother's lax, unresponsive face. Sam was beginning to warm up again; the shivers had returned and now had diminished to fine tremors. Dean on the other hand was shaking badly when Barry pulled him away from his brother's side.

"Dean, man. You gotta get changed, you're still soaked and the dunk in the Ocean didn't do you any favors. Go get dried off."

"Yeah, okay." Barry released Dean's shoulder where he had a solid grip and Dean wavered between leaving to go get dry clothing and his need to stay with Sam and take care of him.

"Go. That's an order, sailor."

"If he…"

"I'll come get you. Now go get your ass dried off and warmed up and get back here. Then I'll see what I can do about getting us to shore as quick as possible."

Dean nodded and jogged to his cabin, trying to get the blood flowing in his veins again. Once there he hastily dried off, running a towel over his head he sent his short spiky hair back into it's usual style , not caring that it was crusted with dry salt water. He pulled on dark blue jeans and a black t-shirt before putting on an army green button down. Putting on a belt he remembered that his pistol was now somewhere in the deep. Reaching back into his bag he pulled his pearl handled Beretta and loaded it with rock salt rounds. He tucked it into his waist band and adjusted his shirts so that the bulge was hidden. Moving to the other bed he lifted Sam's duffel bag up and pulled out clean boxers and a pair of sweats. Holding the bundle to his chest Dean went back to his brother, his shivers finally ceasing as he barreled back through the door of Barry's cabin to be hit in the face by the heat of the room. He turned the heater down and moved to his brother's side. Sam's lips were their normal color, but a little cracked from salt water coating them.

"How is he?"

"He hasn't moved. Help yourself to anything. I'm going to go light a fire under Rick and get us back to shore so we can get him to the hospital." Barry left and Dean moved to the bed. He reached under the covers and removed the small blanket from Sam's waist. He wrestled his brother back into boxers and then pulled the blankets back. During the several minutes it took to get Sam into the loose fitting gray sweats he never moved. Dean swallowed the lump in his throat, went to the small refrigerator and opened the door. Pulling out a bottle of water he broke the seal and moved back to Sam's side. Dean eased down on the bed, dropping the lid on the bedside shelf and pulled Sam up into his arms so that Sam's back was resting against his chest. He tipped the water to Sam's lips and managed to get some into his mouth. Dean angled his head to watch Sam's face, the back of his brother's head resting against his shoulder, Dean's attention on Sam's throat.

"Come on Sammy, swallow. You need this man." Nothing. Dean shifted Sam gently, the water leaking from the corner of Sam's mouth, and raised a now shaking hand to Sam's throat as the other tipped the bottle to his lips again. Dean massaged Sam's throat and he convulsively swallowed the cool liquid. Dean finally breathed a sigh and put the bottle on the shelf next to the bed, not caring that the lid fell to the floor. He wrapped his arms around his brother, pulling the covers up with him. He angled Sam's forehead to rest in the hollow at the base of his throat and put his chin on Sam's head, the chestnut waves smelling of salt and Sam catching in Dean's stubble. "I swear I'm gonna find out what's happening here and I'm gonna get you back." Dean turned his head to the side, his cheek now resting where his chin had, his eyes sliding closed. "I'm. Gonna. Get. You. Back."

**A/N: Okay, me again. Hope you all liked that. My longest chapter of a multi chapter fic. ( I think) My brain is fried. ST, hope you like the start. Everyone else, please hit that beautiful button. You people are great! Next chapter tomorrow evening.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks so much for the awesome reviews. You all rock! You really made a lousy day at work all better for me now. If I missed replying to any of the awesome reviews I'm sorry and I will catch you as soon as I can. To let you know I'm playing with the concept and lore behind Out of Body experiences. I'm hoping you all continue to like this story and nothing jumps out as being wrong. To anyone who wants to give me props for writing so fast, don't... this story is finished. There's no way I could write this a chapter a night. Updating is the easy part.  
**

**See disclaimers in chapter 1 and enjoy. Any medical stuff is pulled out of thin air so don' t bite my head off if it's not right. Also, the myth of the steelworker imprisoned in the hull is false but just too fascinating to let go. It stood out as the perfect way to put a hunter aboard the unsinkable that sank. You'll see later on.**

**Chapter 2**

_Somewhere in the Mist, April 14, 1912. _

Sam returned from the bathroom of the cabin dressed in gray trousers and a white button down shirt. He had used his fingers to smooth back his still damp hair and at least looked less the bedraggled rat that he had when he first caught a glimpse of himself in the small mirror that was fastened to the wall of the bathroom. He approached Duane, still somewhat wary of the hunter, his experience in dealing with other hunters besides Bobby not leaving him happy to meet the men. Duane turned at the sight of Sam coming back into the room. He stopped mid step and just stared at Sam, unnameable emotions crossing his features. His green eyes clouded and shifted away hastily. Sam watched him and wondered what was going on. _Dean gets that same look when someone mentions Mom._

"Here," Duane said, holding out a gray tweed jacket for Sam, "put this on. It'll help to keep you warm and also keep these idiot people from asking questions about you."

"Asking questions?" Sam looked at Duane as he slipped into the jacket that fit well considering he was at lest three inches taller than his brother's look-alike that he was facing now.

Duane rolled his eyes and gestured to the opulent surroundings. He used a mocking tone and cracked a grin at Sam. "What class is he? Should he look like that and be in a first class area? Like I said, that's all they care about. They don't even realize the danger they're in."

"Danger?" Sam echoed, coming to attention at that.

"There's a malevolent spirit aboard. It's already killed two crewmen. The captain ordered everyone to be silent about it but I was there. I'm posing as an under cover detective on the ship to ferret out illegal activity in the high society. There's a man… he was the one who was talking to Miss Emily. He's a smuggler that uses his "class" to be above the law. I'm here for the spirit though."

"Do you know who it was when it was alive? Do you know how to get rid of it?"

"This ship, from the start of the building, had some serious issues. Supposed reports of unfair labor hours and cruelty among the bosses, directed at the laborers. Also about shoddy materials. There were rumors of a worker being _trapped_ behind a hull plate because he was going to squeal and the shipping company wanted to put a stop to him. They discounted the reports and forgot about the man they condemned to a slow death and an afterlife trying to get revenge. They have no idea that what they've unleashed is a lot worse than a couple more weeks in dry-dock to finish a few repairs." Duane sounded angry as he finished the last sentence.

"How did you find out so much? The ship's only been on its maiden voyage for a few days."

"My brother was the worker imprisoned in the hull." Duane ground out between clenched teeth with white knuckled fists at his sides. "He saw things, told me things. He…" Duane trailed off and turned away.

"What?" Sam stepped up and turned Duane, seeing the hurt in his eyes. "What is it?"

"He told me he dreamed he was going to die. That he was going to be the reason this ship went down. He saw things in his dreams. They came true. Every time. We hunted together. He begged me a couple times to end him… because he was like what we hunted. Because some terrible thing was making him into what we hunted. I'd have rather died. He died anyway. Now I need to put him to rest. Before his dream comes true."

"Oh wow. Dean…" Sam trailed off, turning away this time. "My brother. I've hunted with him for years now. We got a gig aboard a cargo ship to see if we could figure out what was making them sink. He's still out there somewhere."

"In the water? Like you were?"

"What? NO! At least I hope not. I think that weird mist had something to do with me winding up here. With this hunt, whatever's going on here? What I can't figure out is how I got here."

"What do you mean?"

"It's 2008 where I was when I went in the water."

Duane scoffed. "Come again?"

"Something pulled me into some kind of weird…I don't know how to describe it. But this?" Sam mimicked Duane's earlier movements, gesturing around the cabin. "This is in my history books."

"Cristo." Duane muttered just loud enough for Sam to hear.

"What? No, Duane. I'm not possessed. I'm not crazy either." Sam went to his pile of still damp clothing and started rooting through the pockets. "Where is it? Where is it?"

Duane stepped up beside Sam, the knife in his hand again but lowered at his side. "What?"

"Well, I was first looking for my cell phone but then when I couldn't find it I tried to find my wallet. They're not here."

"Probably lost to the ocean."

"I'm not so sure." Sam said quietly. Then he turned and looked at Duane. "What time is it?"

_April 14, 2008._

Barry came back into the cabin. Dean raised his head at his new friend's entrance, but never released his hold on Sam. "Dean, we're going to pull into port in about five minutes. There's an ambulance waiting."

"Thanks Barry."

"How's he doin'?"

"Still nothin'." Dean said quietly even as his arms involuntarily tightened around Sam again.

"Look, you go on ahead to the hospital with him. I'll come by later, pick you up and you can come back here to get your car."

"Thanks man." Dean said as he nodded. He felt the ship stop and soon paramedics were flooding into the room. Three of them. Dean laid Sam back on the bunk softly and eased out of the way for the paramedics to work and yet stayed close enough to watch his brother unfailingly for signs that he was waking. A male paramedic, a dark haired man who appeared to be just under six feet tall and well built, looked at Dean.

"I'm Nathan. What's his name and how old is he?"

"Sam'll be twenty-five. I'm Dean, his brother." The female, a small woman with long black hair pulled back in a loose braid tucked a stethoscope in her ears and listened to Sam's chest, while another male, a kid with sandy brown hair and freckles checked Sam's blood pressure, the two spouting off meaningless numbers and words in hushed voices. The woman pulled the stethoscope from Sam's chest and rubbed her knuckles briskly over his sternum.

"Sam, my name is Reva. Can you wake up for me?" She asked, repeating the motion of her hand. "No deep pain response." She looked at Dean. "How long has he been unconscious?" Dean was at a loss. He had no idea how long he'd sat with Sam that his brother hadn't moved. Not once. Barry spoke up.

"The ship lurched two hours ago. He got thrown overboard then and he's been out ever since."

The male paramedic gently pulled back the gauze taped to the side of Sam's head. "He hit his head when he went over?"

"Yeah." Dean supplied. The man whistled low.

"Who did the sutures?"

"I did." Dean answered again. "Look, what's wrong with my brother?"

"He's stable. For all intents and purposes his pulse rate, blood pressure, everything… it's at levels that are perfectly normal…for someone who is sleeping. We're going to transport him. The doctors should be able to tell you more. Are you riding along?"

"No way in hell am I not."

The three paramedics moved Sam from the bunk to the gurney they had wheeled in with them, settling a heavy gray blanket over his bare torso. They strapped him in and ran a lead to his chest under the blanket, connecting it to a heart monitor that beeped steadily, a relaxed pace that Dean remembered well from all the times he held Sam after he'd coaxed him back to sleep during the aftermath of a nightmare. They wheeled him off the ship to the waiting ambulance, Dean following closely.

Once in the ambulance Nathan keyed the radio. "Rig three-seven in route to Mount Desert Island ER. Twenty four year old male, stable but unresponsive. Laceration to the left temple was stitched before we arrived. He was knocked over the side of a cargo ship when it impacted something in the water. Looking at possible water inhalation, shock. Hypothermia doesn't appear to be a condition. No other injuries noted on site." The radio crackled to life and a hollow sounding voice echoed through the ambulance.

"Roger that three-seven. DOT has control of the lights at Dolliver and Edgewood. What's your ETA?"

"ETA nine minutes Dispatch. Three-seven out."

Dean took his brother's hand where it was tucked in under the heavy blanket. The coarse material scratched the back of his hand. "Ya hear that Sammy. Just a couple more minutes and you're gonna get help okay? I'll be right here bro. Promise. We're gonna figure this out." Sirens could be heard over head as Reva checked Sam's vitals again when the ambulance pulled out onto the street that led into the city. Dean refused to let go of Sam's hand, every fiber in his being just wishing his brother would squeeze back.

_Somewhere in the Mist, April 14, 1912._

Duane pulled his watch from the pocket of his trousers and flipped open the silver cover. "It's about eight o'clock."

"Oh God."

"What is it Sam?"

"Do you know where your brother's body is?"

"The general area yes." Duane pulled several sketches of the ship's layout from a safe located in the wall of the cabin. "Matthew drew these from his dreams. He showed me where it was going to happen. I think something is off about the location now though because he told me the time it was going to happen and I showed up to stop it early and couldn't find him. I never found my brother."

"They ambushed him then."

"That's my guess." Duane pointed to a portion of the ship's hull near the stern on the sketch. "Here's the last hull plate he put up. There was a section of rivets missing that another worker finished after no one could find Matthew. I've checked the obvious places he could have been stashed and have come up empty. I don't know where his body is." Duane turned from Sam and the sketches and ran a hand over the back of his tense neck. Sam looked at Duane and stared._ He's just like Dean. Oh God, Dean. Please be out there man. I need your help. I need you to help me get back._

_April 14, 2008._

The paramedics unloaded Sam from the back of the ambulance soon after it pulled into the Emergency entrance of the hospital. Dean jumped down and paced beside the gurney carrying his unconscious brother, not letting go of his shoulder. Barreling through the exterior doors as they slid open nearly soundlessly on their hydraulics, the paramedics were quickly joined by a team of doctors and nurses. Dean was removed from Sam's side by a forceful orderly with a gruff demeanor. The man pulled Dean aside as Sam's gurney disappeared through the hated double doors to the trauma rooms beyond.

"You can't go in there."

"He's my kid brother." Dean said as he faced down the man who'd barred him from being there for Sam. Dean's temper began to simmer, his upset at Sam's condition making him feel like he was going to explode. He moved to step around the easily six and a half foot tall heavyset man and was barred by a meaty arm across the chest.

"I don't care if he's your twin sister. You can't go in there!"

Dean caught the man's wrist and had him spun into the wall beside the doors with little more than a grunt from him and a menacing growl from Dean. A red headed nurse came through the doors just as the orderly broke free of Dean's grasp and turned on him. "STEVE!" The woman was tiny, but didn't hesitate to step between Steve and Dean. At barely five and a half feet tall Dean stared at the woman and thought he could break her in half one handed. The orderly though instantly looked sheepish. "Go find something to do before I report you. You are working here to help people, not to give us another patient!" The orderly glared at her and walked off muttering to himself. She turned to Dean. "I am so sorry for that." She said as she gestured to Steve's hastily retreating back. "I'm Maggie Lawson."

"Dean Wilson." Dean said; using the name of their latest fake insurance card and the same name they'd used to get the job aboard the cargo ship that had landed them in this whole mess in the first place. "You were with m' brother?"

"Yes, Doctor Bevin is with him now. He's in the best possible hands." She gestured to the nearly empty group of chairs that sat lining the walls of the waiting room. "Dean, we need to know what happened to Sam so we know how to treat him." Dean moved to the chairs and sat in one, the hard plastic letting him know his abused back was still in need of attention. He winced and sat up straight, pulling away from the chair slightly. Maggie sat next to him, not taking her green eyes from his face. She saw his wince. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Dean said, shrugging a shoulder that caused another twinge of discomfort. As usual he first embraced the pain then shoved it away, using it as a means of gaining the determination to finish the hunt and save his brother. "Sam and I took a job aboard Barry Davidson's ship. We grew up around the water and then got away from it for a while. We were lookin' to get back into sailing." The lie formed easy enough for Dean and allowed him to maintain their cover while helping Sam at the same time. "We were looking for some hard work and a nice place to settle since it's just me and Sammy now. Anyway, we were out, oh about a hundred miles when Barry decided to drop anchor for the night. Sam and I were talking near the rail when the ship lurched like we'd hit something. I got thrown into the cargo hold doors and Sammy went over the rail." Dean closed his eyes; the image of Sam impacting the rail before going over it was burned into his memory with vivid detail.

"He hit his head when he went over?" Maggie asked.

"Yeah, it didn't seem that bad though. Like I said, we grew up around the Marines. I've had some medical training." Dean said, knowing he probably knew more about field dressing wounds and suturing without scars than the petite nurse sitting beside him.

"You stitched the wound?"

Dean nodded. "Got 'im warm to stop the Hypothermia from takin' hold after we pulled him back onto the boat."

"You saved his life." Maggie said softly.

"He's my brother. He's my…" Dean trailed off, his green eyes shining with tears as they slid back to the doors keeping him from his Sammy.

"We're taking good care of him." Maggie said as she laid a gentle hand on Dean's shoulder. "Do you want to be checked out?"

"Nah, I'm fine. I just need to…" Dean trailed off not knowing how to tell her he needed Sam to be okay as much as he needed his next breath.

"I'll come for you as soon as we know something about Sam."

"Thanks." Dean said as Maggie turned and walked back through the doors, leaving Dean wishing he could see through her eyes. Someone walked up to Dean and he looked up. "Hey Barry."

"Hear anything about Sam yet?"

"Nothing yet." Dean stood and walked across the room. He turned back and walked back to Barry. "What are you doin' here man?"

"I hope you don't mind. I had your car towed into the parking lot outside. I figured you didn't want to leave your brother anytime soon."

"You did?"

"Don't worry. I had a friend of mine put her up on his roll back. She was treated kind."

"Thanks man."

_Somewhere in the Mist. April 14, 1912._

"We've got to find your brother's body and put his spirit to rest. Like now."

"Why the hurry?" Duane asked, sounding suspicious.

"Your brother told you about his dreams, about him being the one to make the ship sink?"

"Yes."

"Well, this ship does go down. On April 15 at two twenty a.m."

"What?"

"We have six hours to end this."

"Sam, how does the ship sink?"

"Uh, iceberg. It pops the rivets in the stern. About twelve square feet is all it takes to…" Sam trailed off, pain crossing his features. "Ugh." Sam stuttered, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Sam?" Duane said, concerned for the person standing in front of him. What he was seeing, the pain on Sam's face, brought to mind another face. One he missed dearly. Matthew. Sam looked like Matt when he was having one of his dreams. Duane stared for a second, realizing that was exactly what he was seeing. He snapped out of his reverie to see the color drain from Sam's face. Sam's legs buckled and Duane stepped up quickly taking him by the arms and lowering him into a chair at the foot of the bed. "Sam? Talk to me man." Duane said as he crouched down in front of the younger man.

"I…"Sam put a hand to his head and his eyes opened, quickly loosing focus. Duane felt helpless. He'd seen this look on Matthew's face.

"Well, this is interesting." He muttered, keeping one hand on each of Sam's shoulders to keep him upright in the chair.

Sam looked through the haze of white that clouded his vision. He heard voices, surrounding him, speaking from above him. They were muffled, far away. Just disembodied words that were snatched away before he could make any sense of them. There were shadows around him on all sides. He heard a voice, clearer than any of the others, as a gentle hand touched his shoulder. _"C'mon Sam. Wake up for us. You have a brother out in the waiting room right now who very much needs some good news." _The rest of her words faded away the only thing lingering in Sam's muddled mind was the word brother. _"His eyes are open. Sam, I'm doctor Bevin, can you hear me son?" _A man's face behind a mask loomed close to him and the blackness closed in again.

"Dean!" Sam cried as his eyes cleared. He slumped into the waiting arms that had a strong grasp on his shoulders, trying to catch his breath with ragged gasps. His head was pounding.

"Sam, what did you see?" Duane asked him as he helped him to sit upright again.

"I'm not really here. I think I, my body I mean, is in a hospital."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Nothing much does anymore." Sam muttered as he stood from the chair and locked his knees to keep from pitching to the floor. "What matters is finishing this hunt. We need to find Matthew. We need to put him to rest."

"You said that the ship sinks anyway."

"I know, and I'm sorry. It still has to. Too much would be changed if it didn't go down. The entire world was affected by this ship's sinking."

Sam went to the door of the cabin and put his hand to the knob just as a scream echoed down the corridor outside the room. Sam looked at Duane and flung the door open, both men bolting into the hall. Near the end of the corridor Emily stood with a shocked look on her face. "Miss Emily?" Duane questioned as they ran to her side.

"Robert. I saw something take him."

"Emily, what did you see?" Sam asked, taking her by the arms and looking into her eyes.

_April 14, 2008._

Dean was on his ninth trip pacing the length of the waiting room when a male doctor and Maggie emerged from the ER. "Dean?" Maggie called out.

"My brother?" Dean said, instantly stopping and waiting for them to walk up to him.

"Dean, this is Doctor Bevin."

"Doc." Dean said, holding out a hand. The doctor shook it with a strong, confident grip. "How's Sammy?"

"We've moved him to a room. He woke up briefly, long enough for his eyes to open. I'm afraid though he went back under about ten seconds after."

"What's wrong with him?"

"We ran every test we could think of. There is nothing physically wrong with that young man. Not even concussion. I'm sorry Dean. We don't know how to help him."

"Can I see him?"

The doctor nodded. "I do want to tell you that we haven't done minor procedures yet that we normally would with coma patients. He woke up once; we're hoping that he does again before they become necessary."

"Minor procedures?" Dean echoed.

"The placement of a Foley catheter and a feeding tube. We're holding out hope that he wakes before his body needs those things."

"Thanks for that doc."

"I just wish I could do more for Sam." Dean's eyes dropped and he nodded.

"I'll take you to his room." Maggie said softly. Maggie walked down to the elevator and pushed the button for the fourth floor. Dean followed her inside and the doors closed.

"Is Sammy in a coma?" Dean had to ask.

"It's more like he's sleeping. I'm sorry Dean. I wish I could tell you more."

"It's okay. I'll figure it out. I'll get him back." The doors opened and Maggie led him to a room several doors down from the elevator. He paused at the door and took a deep breath, almost afraid of what he'd see once he opened that door. Maggie placed a hand on his shoulder. He smiled grimly at her and pushed open the door, going inside. Maggie turned from the door, tears in her eyes, and walked back to the waiting elevator.

Sam lay on the bed, looking like he was asleep. Dean knew better. In his sleep, Sam was always moving; flopping lanky arms and legs in every direction, his head working deeper into the pillows. Some movement from Sam's direction always reassured Dean, even while he was sleeping deep himself, that his little brother was there. That he was Sam. This, lying so still on the hospital bed in the white room under white covers, was _not_ Sam. Not his Sammy. Dean walked to the side of the bed and pulled the chair closer to the rail. He didn't sit down. He looked at his brother, taking in the fact that he was breathing on his own, not even on oxygen like so many other times in his life. He was pale but not the blending-in-with-sheets-pale that he usually was during a close encounter with the afterlife. The steady beep of the heart monitor was the only reassurance Dean had that his too-still brother was still there.

Dean touched Sam's forehead with a gentle thumb and reached the other hand out to take Sam's in his own. "Hey Sammy." Dean said quietly. "Doc says you're okay. Just need you to wake up. C'mon. What's keeping you so far away Sammy? Huh?"

_Somewhere in the Mist, April 14, 1912._

"Emily." Sam said again, tipping her blond head with a gentle finger so that she was looking up at him. Then it hit him how much she looked like Jess. _Oh God, what is going on here? Why Dean? Why does Emily look like Jess? Is this really all in my mind?_

"I- I thought I saw a man. Young looking. Tall. Something was off about him though. The way he moved. One moment he was standing there watching us," Emily pointed to a spot several yards down the carpeted corridor, "the next he was in front of us. It became so cold, the corridor filling with this fog that was impossible to see through. I heard Robert cry out and then the mist cleared. Robert was gone."

"Look, Emily. Go back to your cabin. Get changed." Sam said as he took in her red and black lacy dress with short sleeves. "As warm as you can. Okay?"

"Why?"

"Please, Miss Emily." Duane broke in. "Things are about to get bad."

"But that man? Robert?"

"We'll find them." Sam said.

Emily turned and rushed down the corridor to her cabin. Once Sam heard her door slam he turned and went back into Duane's cabin. "Do you have any weapons?" Sam asked hurriedly as Duane came through the door behind him. Duane grinned at Sam. _Dean's smartass grin._ He went to a travel trunk he had at the side of the bed and opened the lid. Pulling a few clothes out of the top he revealed a hidden cache of impressive weaponry. Among the things in the trunk were a bag of salt, several flasks, knives, and a sawed off shotgun.

"I have iron rounds for it in the box here."

"I have a better idea." Sam said, pulling it from the trunk along with the bag of salt. He quickly opened several of the heavy paper casings and dumped the iron rounds out, refilling the empty space with salt.

He closed the crimped ends and looked up to see Duane watching him in amazement. "Spirit repelling rounds."

"Damn straight." Sam said, grinning.

Duane and Sam made short work of several of the cartridges and soon had ten rock salt rounds that would fire in the shotgun. They each grabbed a knife with a consecrated iron blade and placed the weapons on their persons but out of sight. Duane tucked the remaining salt into his jacket pocket.

**A/N: Chapter 2 down. Hope you'll all hit that beautiful little button and let me know I haven't lost you with the 96 year jump. Love you all! More tomorrow, although it'll be later in the evening. Work sucks!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Oh you people are beautiful! So many awesome reviews and fave alerts, I can't believe how many of you are supporting me on this trippy roller coaster of a story I have absolutely loved writing. ST, you have been so great and your reviews rock. I'm happy to know that this one is what you were looking for in some form or another. As always, Jean, Gill... you two are my girls and you always seem to have my corner. THANKS SO MUCH!**

**Here's a little angst, a little banter and a lot of that brotherly bond we all love. Not too much action here, but anyway enjoy...**

**Chapter 3**

_April 14__th__, 2008._

Dean released his gentle hold on Sam's forehead but not his hand. He hooked a foot in the chair and pulled it closer. It was upholstered in a dark burgundy color and looked fairly comfortable. "Need ya back Sammy. C'mon kid. I only got a couple months left an' don't wanna spend 'em here man. The only nurse that qualifies as hot is a red head and has more freckles than I do." Dean breathed a laugh that ended on a sob as he plopped down in the chair. "Sammy, tell me what to do to help you."

_Somewhere in the Mist, April 14, 1912._

Sam lost his smile as a now familiar feeling washed over him. He staggered, one hand going to his head while the other held the shotgun and a salt round. "Uunnnhh." He moaned and the gun clattered to the carpet, the round rolling under the bed.

"Sam?!" Duane bolted forward and caught Sam as his knees buckled.

"It's happening again." Sam said breathlessly. Both hands shot to his temples again, his palms pressing tight, left one breaking open the cut that had been scabbed over. His eyes opened and lost focus, the last thing he saw being a pair of too familiar green eyes full of concern.

Sam heard a voice, feeling a warm hand settled gently on his. The voice washurting, pain drawing Sam closer to the surface._ "Man, tell me what to do. I need you back Sammy. Tell me how I can help you." _Sam felt himself gaining strength, fighting the fatigue that held him tight, keeping him lost in a fog. He reached for that voice that was so familiar, he reached for his brother.

_April 14, 2008._

Dean felt movement under his hand and his moist eyes shot to his brother's face. "Sammy?" Sam's eyes were moving behind their lids. It was a small amount of response but it was a treasured sight nonetheless. "Come on Sammy. You can do it. Please, man, wake up for me." Dean took the hand that had moved and squeezed reassuringly. He felt something wash over him like a warm wind. It caressed him and brought tears to his eyes as they slid closed. _Come on man. Talk to me. _Dean reached deep for the bond that he had with Sam, the one that made them brothers and more, best friends. He began seeing a swirling mist in his minds eye. A figure stood in the mist, darkening and becoming solid as it moved towards him. "_Sammy?"_

Sam emerged from the mist, dressed in gray trousers and a white shirt with a gray jacket. _"Dean?"_

"_Yeah, man. God, it's good to see you. Although I gotta say… this is new."_ Dean gestured to the mist that surrounded them.

"_Yeah, I get that. Listen, this is weird. I don't know what happened man but… I'm on the Titanic. There's a hunt that I need help with. Dude, get the laptop. I need to know where the steelworker was imprisoned in the hull. The sonofabitch is haunting the ship and killing people. There's a hunter aboard who got wind of it."_

"_Whoa, Sammy. I can believe a lot of things... but the Titanic?"_

"_I'm talking to you in my head, while I'm not in my body. I'm also dressed circa 1912. What don't you believe again?"_

"_Yeah, okay. I'll get the laptop. How can I reach you again? This is a little…"_

"_Just talk to me, man. I'll hear." _The mist began to grow and thicken around them again. Sam's form became obscured, insubstantial as the fog swirled in.

"_Sammy! Don't go. How am I gonna get you back?" _Dean cried, stepping deeper into the swirling mist. Something stopped him from running to his brother. It was as if he'd hit an invisible wall. _ "SAMMY!!"_

"_I think I have to finish this hunt. Something is holding me…" _Sam's voice was fading into the mist, his form barely visible now. _"Dean, hurry man. Time is…."_ Dean's eyes snapped open to see Sam's still beneath their lids. His hand had ceased movement under Dean's. Dean wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hands._ No wonder visions used to take so much outta him. That sucks._

Tears trailed from Dean's eyes and he angrily dashed them away. He stood, shooting a hand up to lie on Sam's forehead. "I'm gonna get the laptop. I'll find a way to get you outta this. I'm gonna get you back. You don't go anywhere, ya hear me?" The steady beep was Dean's only answer.

Dean looked at his watch. It read seventeen after ten. If he remembered right he had less than two hours to find a way to save his brother.

Dean ran out of the hospital room after one last caress of Sam's forehead. He was headed for the exit, just rounding the corner at a lope when he ran headlong into Maggie. She was dressed in jeans and a deep green sweater. Her red hair now hung loose down her back in soft waves. Dean gripped her arms to keep her from crashing to the hard tiled floor.

"Oh!" She cried out as he set her back on her feet.

"Maggie. I'm sorry." Dean said as he steadied her and lowered his hands.

"Dean? What's wrong? Where are you going is such a hurry? Is Sam okay?"

"For now." Dean muttered as he turned away and started down the hall again.

"Dean!" Maggie yelled out, running to catch up to him. She put a hand on his arm, stopping his flight. "What is going on? I want to help."

"You wanna help?"

"Yes."

"Sit with Sammy."

"What?"

"Please go sit with Sammy. Don't take your eyes off him until I get back."

"Where are you going?"

"Please Maggie. Don't let Sammy go anywhere without me."

Maggie dropped her hand. "I promise." She turned and walked back down the corridor. Dean watched on until she disappeared into Sam's room. He turned away and sprinted to the door for the stairs. He took the four floors faster than any elevator. He was outside and in the Impala, firing the engine and pulling the gear shift down into drive before he even shut the door. The car left twin black marks as it pulled out onto the road.

_Somewhere in the Mist April 14, 1912._

Sam's eyes cleared as he again slumped in Duane's grasp. He realized then that he'd been lowered to the floor when the vision took over. He was in the cabin, breathless, his head pounding.

"Sam, you with me?"

"Guess so."

"What happened this time?"

"Dean. He was talking to me and somehow it pulled me back. I got to talk to him, I dunno, in my head? Maybe? It was weird. I got a message through that we need his help." Duane hauled Sam to his feet and steadied him. When Sam felt the pounding in his head lessen and the vertigo lose its hold on him he nodded and Duane let go of his shoulders. Duane then bent to retrieve the shotgun, handing it back to Sam. He picked up the bag of salt and his pistol and tucked everything away. Sam slid out of his jacket and put the leather strap that was connected to the stock of the shotgun over his shoulder in the position a holster would take. He then put the jacket back on and looked at Duane.

"Let's go see if we can find those bones." Sam said.

_Isleview Motel and Cottages, April 14, 2008._

Dean pulled the car to a dead stop with a screech of brakes in front of their motel room door. He was nine miles from the hospital and although it had only taken him five minutes to get there he felt like he was running out of time. He bolted to the door, quickly palming his key. Two seconds later he was striding across the paisley patterned carpet and diving for Sam's laptop, which was closed on the desk in the corner of the room. He grabbed the leather messenger bag that Sam kept it in and made sure the charger was inside. Dean put the computer into the bag and was headed back out the door of the room in less than a minute. Locking the room, he automatically checked the knob and ran back to the car; sliding in the door he'd left hanging wide open. He slammed the door and hit the gas as soon as he pulled back to drive. The car responded with another set of twin black marks.

"Sorry girl. We get Sammy back and I'll buy you a new pair of shoes." Dean muttered as he patted the dash. He hit the gas again. On the way back to the hospital Dean had to wait on two stop lights. "Damnit, come on!" He said as he tapped a hand on the steering wheel. The light finally turned green and Dean was through the intersection and that much closer to Sam. He pulled into the hospital parking lot, the return trip taking far longer than he felt he had. He rushed through the door and to the elevator across the hall. He took the ride to the fourth floor, gripping the leather bag containing his way to save his brother, and barreled back through Sam's door to find Maggie still there, her hand on his brother's.

"Dean, where did you go?"

"Our motel. I had to get something. Thanks for staying with him Maggie. I'm sorry if I held you up from something." He said, dismissing her.

"Oh, no you don't. What is going on Dean? Why did you need to take off from here like that to come back less than fifteen minutes later with _a laptop?_"

Dean sighed and continued pulling the laptop from its bag. He looked at Maggie and tried to figure out how she would react if he told her the truth. "Look Maggie…"

"Just be straight with me. This has something to do with the ships that go down every year, doesn't it?"

"What makes you think that?" Dean asked, now wondering what she _wouldn't _believe.

"My father was aboard one of the ships that sank. He told me that the saw something in the mist. He told me that just before he died of the hypothermia he developed before the Coast Guard could get to him."

Look, Sam and I are hunters. There is something out there. It has Sammy… I don't know how to explain it. It's like he's having an out –of –body experience or something. Sammy is… out there and I only have a little over an hour to get him back." Dean expected her to look at him like he had three heads. She looked from him to Sam and back.

"What can I do to help?"

"Know any reliable websites about the Titanic?"

_Somewhere in the Mist, April 14, 1912._

Sam opened the door of the cabin. He started down the corridor, quickly followed by Duane. He stopped dead and turned, going to the door he'd seen Emily disappear behind. He knocked softly. He could hear someone shuffling around inside. "Emily?" He said softly. "Emily, its Sam."

He heard soft footsteps and the door opened to reveal her. She looked at him, fear and something else in her eyes. She had done as he asked and was dressed in a wool traveling suit with a heavy shawl around her shoulders. "Sam, what is it?"

"Look, Can you do something for me?"

"Yes."

"Go up on the Boat Deck. Find somewhere where you have a good view of the ocean and don't leave that deck no matter what."

"Sam, what's going on?" She stared at him intently, wanting answers that she somehow knew that he had. It hit her then. _Something happened to him. He doesn't belong here. That should scare me but I've never trusted anyone like I know I can trust him._

"Just promise me you'll do that. And take care. It's going to get rough tonight."

She looked at him again for a moment, seeing the fear for her in his eyes. "I promise." She said.

"We're going to try to find Robert. We'll send him to you."

She nodded and stepped up to him, kissing him on the cheek. "Thank you." Emily skirted Sam and did the same thing to Duane. "You too." She walked down the corridor to the elevator, disappearing inside. Duane took the lead and Sam followed as they headed down to the lower decks. Duane's first class cabin had been on B deck. Sam had figured that whoever had killed Matthew had stashed him somewhere he wouldn't easily be found. That left the two lowest decks, where cargo, supplies and coal for the twenty nine massive boilers were stored. Sam opted for the elevator, knowing that would limit the number of people who saw them running through the massive decks and the bowels of the ship like maniacs. Guilt surged through him at the after thought that it would also limit the number of people, innocent people, that he had to make eye contact with and still let die. He swallowed back bile as the elevator started going down.

The elevator doors opened and Duane lifted the ornate wrought iron gate. They stepped out of the enclosure and found themselves on the E-Deck. Sam pulled the shot gun from his jacket and Duane pulled his small pistol. They had to take stairs from that deck to the lower ones. They slid into hunter mode with ease, Sam feeling as comfortable with Duane that he did Dean. Sam fell into step behind him, automatically watching his back as they picked their way along the deck, around storage areas and through third class passages until they found another stairway going down. Sam marveled at how massive the ship was and how lost he felt. _C'mon Dean, tell me you've found out where Matthew's remains are._

Once on the F-deck, Sam noticed people moving busily, even at night. They were dressed in the plain uniforms of sailors and maids, not the dress uniforms of the higher ranking crew. Hard working men and women, scurrying about with supplies for the next day of running a ship. Sam swallowed hard. _There won't be a next day for this ship._ Sam stopped to watch for a moment, his stomach turning to lead as he realized these were the people who died. These were the people who were trapped by water, darkness and cold and never made it to the lifeboats. Hard workers who were happy with their lives. People just like him.

"Sir?" Sam jarred himself from his reverie and looked at who was speaking to him. A young woman in a maid's uniform. Her hands were full of neatly folded table linens and concern etched her pretty face even while wisps of red hair escaped her braid.

"Uh, yes?"

"Is something wrong sir?"

"What? No. Thanks for asking."

"Enjoy the rest of your trip." She said with a slight accent and a polite smile.

"Sam?"

"Yeah, man." Sam said. Duane tipped his head towards the staircase. Moving away from the maid with a brief heartbroken smile he followed Duane down to the lower Orlop Deck, G-deck seeming invisible as Sam kept his eyes glued to the steel floor and his feet._ I can't do this. I can't see these people and still let them die. God, Dean help me. How the hell am I supposed to cope with this? Help me._ A voice came through to Sam, familiar and comforting even though it wasn't _Dean_.

"Sam? Hey man, you alright?"

_April 14__th__, 2008._

Dean took in every bit of information in the articles he'd read about the sinking of the Titanic, the time line, everything. His sharp hunter mind highlighting the details to share with Sam. _Sam._ His eyes shot to the tiny digital clock at the bottom of the screen._10:50 p.m. Hang in there Sammy. I'm gonna find something. I swear._ "Holy…"

"What is it Dean?" Maggie asked, coming to stand beside him, peering over his shoulder at the laptop screen.

"Ten years ago, 1998. A twenty ton section of the hull was lifted from the ocean. It was a piece of the stern. That's the year the sinkings started."

"That's when my father died. His was the first ship to go down."

"They disturbed the bastard's grave."

"Look, there's a diagram of where the piece of hull was located. Can that help Sam?"

"That's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." Dean grinned at Maggie. "I gotta find him again."

"How?"

"We're brothers. I'll find him. Do me a favor?"

"Name it."

Dean pulled out his cell phone. "The contact list. Bobby. Call him and ask him what he knows about out of body experiences and how to end them. If he questions tell him two words."

"What two words?"

"Funky town."

"What?"

"Funky town. He'll tell you everything he knows once he hears that. Take notes. We need to know how to get my brother back. I'm not sure he's just going to wake up."

"Alright."

"Do it now. I'm not gonna be much good to you for the next few minutes."

Maggie was pushing buttons when Dean walked over to Sam and eased down in the chair beside the bed. He lowered the bed rail and lifted Sam's lifeless hand holding it tight in his own. Dean closed his eyes and reached for his brother.

_Somewhere in the Mist. April 14, 1912._

Sam stumbled as Duane asked the question, that familiar feeling slamming into him again. The pressure behind his eyes, _not really pain but not a pleasure cruise either._ Something was different Sam realized as a wrenching sensation felt like it was going to rip him in two. "No. I…Ahh!" He dropped to his knees, a dull knife cutting through his nerves.

"Sam…Sam, talk to me?" Duane begged, concern tingeing his voice.

"_Sammy. C'mon man, talk to me! SAMMY!"_ Dean found himself walking through the mist again, searching for his brother. Dean heard whispers; the tones drowning out every other sound and making him feel lost. His head hurt._ "SAMMY!"_ He screamed into the thick mist as panic wrenched his heart.

"_Here Dean!"_ Sam called. _"I'm here man. It's gettin' harder…"_ The whispers drowned Sam out as they gained intensity again.

"_Sam?!"_

"_Hurts worse to try to break through, man. The whispers…my head hurts. Think I'm gettin' weaker." _Sam's voice sounded hollow, weak. Terror ripped through Dean as he caught Sam's tone. He started running through the mist, feeling like he was running down an endless tunnel.

"_Keep talkin' Sammy. I'm gonna find you. Just keep talkin'."_

"_I'm here Dean."_ Sam's voice was barely audible above the whispers and the crushing pressure making Dean's head pound.

"_Keep talkin'!"_ Dean stumbled, forcing his way through that invisible wall and suddenly found himself somewhere else. The mist was gone, the floor and walls steel. Large turbines and machinery were lurking in the background. Sam though was the target Dean's eyes searched for as suddenly his voice came through.

"_Here!"_ It was a pained whisper. Sam was on his knees on the floor several feet ahead of Dean. He ran to Sam's side and dropped to his own in front of him.

"_Sammy."_ Dean whispered. His brother's head was bowed, his body shaking. Dean put a hand to Sam's jaw and lifted his face, concern darkening his green eyes as he took in the trickle of blood leaking from Sam's nose. _"Aw God."_

"_I haven't found Matthew yet Dean."_

"_I have. He's in the stern behind a bulkhead in the number six boiler room. You mentioned the sinkings starting ten years ago? That's when they raised a piece of the hull from the ocean floor. They disturbed his grave. The coordinates for all the sinkings are the same, including where you went in the water man. It's directly above the stern of the ship. You gotta be careful Sammy, this is one majorly pissed off spirit. Near as I can figure he's using the ship like that ass of a ghost did with the truck in Cape Girardeau. What I don't get is how this thing is haunting the ocean with a vengeance if there was a hunter on board in 1912."_

"_He never found his brother."_ Sam said softly, his body leaning into Dean as a grimace of pain crossed his features_. "The ship went down first. I haven't seen anywhere near all of the people that were actually aboard. I think that the survivors aren't here, they're not haunting the ocean with the ship." _ The whispers started again as the mist rose, obscuring everything from Dean's sharp gaze. He tightened his hands on Sam's shoulders and felt his brother shudder.

"_Sammy?"_

"_I'm sorry Dean." _Sam said as he looked up at his brother with tears in his hazel eyes. He blinked once, looking like a spirit and chilling Dean to the bone. Sam disappeared into the mist.

"_SSSAAAAMMMMMMYYYYYY!"_

**A/N: Oh, Am I evil or what? Sorry but I just had to leave this here. Number one it was just too much fun to pass up and number two, Dean soon finds out what he has to do to get his Sammy back and I didn't want a bunch of homicidal Sammygirls hunting me down over night! I'll see you all tomorrow evening with chapter 4. Love you all. Share that love and hit the beautiful button, even if it is just to tell me you'll hate me until Saturday night!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So great to see so many of you sticking by me and enjoying this fic. 1Pagan3 called it intense. I hope others feel the same. Thanks for the amazing comments from every one of you! This chapter was so much fun to write. We get to take a look at Dean's acting skills here. Cookies to anyone who figures out what Dean has to do to get Sammy back. enjoy the start of the hunt and for those of you who love Bobby, he's here too in one form or another! Enjoy!**

**Little side note here, the weak steel myth is another one that was proved false but I couldn't resist. It made for some very nice hurt Sam and a perfect way to expose the end of the hunt. We have the salt, now it's time for the Burn. Nana56: you mentioned just repelling the spirit... I make sure they end this hunt the way it should end. Promise.**

**Chapter 4**

_April 14__th__, 2008. Fort Pierre, South Dakota._

Bobby was sitting in a chair in his living room reading an ancient book when his cell phone rang. He checked the screen and then the clock. 8:57 p.m.

"Dean?"

"_Hello? Is this Bobby?"_ A female voice said. Bobby's eyes narrowed as he looked at his phone again.

"Who is this? Where's Dean?"

"_My name is Maggie. I'm a nurse in Bar Harbor, Maine, at Mount Desert Island Hospital."_

"Nurse? Hospital? Where's Dean? Sam?"

"_Look, there's not much time. Dean is okay. He asked me to say Funky town for some reason. That you'd understand."_

"I understand alright. What's goin' on?"

"_What do you know about out of body experiences?"_

"What?!"

"_It's Sam. Dean says that's what's happened to him."_

"Aw Damn. How'd it start?"

"_He nearly drowned. He's been unconscious ever since. Dean says that he's talked to him somehow. He's doing it now. Sam's aboard the Titanic. Dean says he's running out of time to bring Sam back."_

"I always knew those two had a hell of a bond. Wait, you said Sam's aboard the Titanic?!"

"_That's what Dean said."_

"It has to end the way it started."

"_Oh, God."_ Bobby heard the shock register in the voice.

"Yeah." Bobby paused. "Damn!"

"_What?"_

"What time is it there?"

"_Three to eleven."_

_Bar Harbor, Maine._

Maggie glanced Dean's way as she saw him slump in the chair just before his eyes shot open. He flopped forward and his head hit the bed beside Sam's elbow hard. He was breathing heavily, Maggie saw his back heaving. Tears formed in her eyes when she heard his pained cry of "Sammy."

"Hang on Bobby." She said into the phone. "Dean?"

"Yeah?" He said, not raising his head from the bed.

"I think you need to talk to Bobby." She walked to his side and held the phone out. He lifted his head and a shaking hand and took the phone.

"Bobby?"

"_Dean, Maggie filled me in. You don't have much time. The experience has to end the same way it began. It's the only way to get 'im back, Dean."_

"Are you nuts?! You're saying… NO! No freakin' way!!"

"_Dean, it's the only way. I'm sorry kid." _ Dean heard the emotion in Bobby's voice and knew his friend was hurting as much as he was at the prospect of what Sam had to go through yet. _"Dean?"_

"Yeah Bobby?"

"_You get him back; you two get your asses out here to me for a few days."_

"We'll see you in a couple days Bobby." Dean's voice was like silken steel, determination to get his brother back flaring to life within him. He would do anything to have Sammy back. This, though, was going to test him. This was _far_ worse than accepting the one way ticket to hell for his brother.

_Somewhere in the Mist. April 14__th__, 1912._

"Sam? Sam!" Duane crouched down in front of Sam and lifted his bowed head in time to see his eyes clear.

"Unnn. Dean. I saw him again. He…he told me where Matthew is." Sam panted, pinching the bridge of his nose. Duane got Sam under the arms and hauled him to his feet. Concern darkened Duane's green eyes as he took in Sam's pale face.

"Sam?" Sam sniffed, feeling his nose running. He raised a shaky hand, wiping at the moisture. It came away bloody.

"Huh." He said. "That was harder than the last time." Duane pulled his handkerchief and held it to Sam's nose. Sam took over the grasp.

"What happened?"

"I dunno. I heard the whispers that Dean and I heard before I went overboard. They made my head hurt. Hard to concentrate and find Dean. It was really hard to reach him this time. I'm not sure I'll be able to get back if I'm here much longer."

"Then let's finish this and get you back. Where's Matthew?"

"In the stern. He's behind the bulkhead in the number six boiler room.

_On the Boat Deck, April 14__th__, 1912._

Emily had taken Sam's advice, something in his tone scaring her. She was up on the Boat deck, watching the ocean intently.

"Miss, is something wrong?"

"Um, no. Just can't sleep. Thank you for asking." She told the officer as he stepped up to her. She cast her eyes back to the ocean, watching the night swallow the calm surface, black blending into black, silent and unmoving past the halo of light the grand ship gave off. She had loved the trip, but since meeting Sam and Duane something troubled her. Robert had gone missing and she was relieved, some dark part of her happy that he was gone. Her thoughts drifted off into the night, nowhere near as quiet as the waves.

The shift change happened around her, freshly rested crew members switching positions with the ones who'd put in a long day, in the crow's nest, on the boat deck. Two new men, one of whom she'd seen around the ship in the days she'd been aboard, took the position high up on a platform above her. She turned her eyes to the night sky and watched the stars, the moon not sharing its light with her. The ocean was quiet and Emily couldn't help the chill that settled into her bones. It had nothing to do with the weather or the eerie moonless night. Her thoughts drifted to the man that had taken Robert. She swore he was there one moment, gone the next as the mist swirled around her and disappeared.

Crew members began milling about more frequently as they shook her from her reverie. She watched the men as their concern about something began to make her nervous. She walked up to a young man in a steward's uniform.

"Excuse me? Is something happening with the ship? There seems to be some anxiousness."

"Nothing to be concerned about Ma'am. The Californian reported stopped by ice. They're about twenty miles north. The waters are clear for us." The young steward went back to his duties.

Emily cast her blue eyes to the ocean and didn't look away.

_April 14__th__, 2008._

"Take Sammy off the monitor." Dean said, indicating the steadily beeping machine next to the head of the bed.

"You're out of your mind! How can you even think that you're doing him any favors with this…insane idea of what you have to do?! I'm calling security." Maggie moved to pass Dean and bolt out the door. Dean caught her arm and stopped her. She snapped, struggling in his arms as he pulled her close. She let out a yell and he quickly clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Maggie, please." Dean said, holding his head close to her ear so he could be heard over her muffles. "I don't want to stop you from making that mistake but I will. He's my brother. I'll do anything I have to, to get him back." Dean said with a deadly calm that instantly caused her to still in his arms. "Now, you can yell, scream, get me arrested… whatever. If you do that, my brother dies. If you help me, you'll get to actually meet someone who'll change your life with one look, someone who makes you realize this life, this existence, is worthwhile after all." She slumped against him and he felt her nod. He released her, holding up his hands to show that she wouldn't be hurt, as she stepped away from him.

"Maggie, I need your help." Dean said, walking to the bedside and watching his brother as he lie too still on the bed. He turned back to her. "Please. I can't…"

"What Dean?"

"I can't do this alone." Dean said; his voice barely above a whisper.

"His doctor isn't just going to let you take him out of here."

"I have an idea there. Can I trust you to go get him for me and not tell him that I'm a lunatic planning on doing the worst freakin' thing I've ever done in my life?"

"I'll help."

"Good girl."

"I still think you're insane. Probably to the level of homicidal."

"Lady, you have no idea."

Maggie stared at him. "Somehow I don't think you could ever hurt your brother though."

"I know I couldn't. I'm not wired that way."

"Your plan better work. I'm not losing my job."

"I'm a real good actor." Dean said with a wink her way. She rolled her green eyes and left the room.

_Somewhere in the Mist, April 14, 1912._

Sam and Duane made it to the Tank deck of the ship. The very bottom. It was deserted. The hair stood up on the back of Sam's neck and a potent smell assaulted his nose. He looked at Duane. "You smell that?"

"Yeah."

"Ozone. Matthew is here."

"Or he was here." Duane said, pointing to a heap on the floor near the boiler.

"Damn." Sam said, taking in the dark suit and brown hair that was now disheveled. "Robert." Sam walked over and used his elbow to turn the man from his side to his back. His brown eyes were open and dull. "He's dead."

"Damn." Duane turned to the bulkhead and stiffened his shoulders. "Find his body, burn it. I'll keep Matthew busy."

"But…"

"Sam, I trust you. Matthew needs to rest." Duane said, unable to contain the ache in his voice. He reached into one of his jacket pockets and pulled a small aluminum cased flashlight from it. He handed it to Sam. "If you can find a way to get behind the bulkhead you're going to need this." Sam took the flashlight, one that would now be antique, and turned it on. It was surprisingly bright. Sam's heart wrenched, as he watched Duane walk back to Robert's body and crouch down, hoping he would get to see Dean again. Duane stood and turned back to the boiler as Sam went into the next room. The one labeled NO.6 by a sign on the door. He found an axe in the glass case just inside the room and used his elbow to break the front. He pulled it from the case and headed to the bulkhead that Dean had suggested held Matthew's body. Sam looked at the rivets holding the bulkhead in place. They were tight, all steel, the wall of metal that separated this boiler from the next nearly seamless. Sam knew that the space was hollow between, dead air that had an insulating quality about it, keeping the heat of the lowest deck manageable should something happen to overheat the boilers.

Sam looked over the wall again. "Damn it. How the hell am I going to break through this?" The hair stood up on the back of his neck again. He stood slowly, noticing his breath fogging in the air of a previously warm room. "Crap." He whispered, a puff of steam lifting from his lips on the word. Turning around he saw what once had been Matthew. Now Sam understood why Duane had looked him at like he had. Facing Matthew was like looking at himself. The same dark, unruly hair topped a tall, on the verge of lanky, frame. A steelworker's muscular arms strained beneath the white shirt. Matthew was dirty, his shirt and trousers torn and smudged. Blood caked the side of his head. All of him was slightly transparent. Matthew's spirit looked at Sam with sadness in the washed out hazel eyes just before they turned red, looking bloodshot around the darkened pupils. Matthew began to advance on Sam, that odd here and then not motion that still never failed to raise Sam's hackles. Sam raised the shotgun and fired. The spirit dispersed with a howl.

"Sam?!"

"He's here. I…"Sam was suddenly propelled backwards by a gust of icy wind. Duane spun in the empty room as Sam hit the wall "UNNGGHhh!" Sam gasped, the metallic thud echoing through the room as his body and head hit hard against the bulkhead. The shotgun's shoulder strap snapped, the leather biting through Sam's shirt and into his shoulder like a whip as the gun clattered to the steel deck, skidding several feet away from both hunters.

"Sam!" Duane shouted before turning to face the empty room. _"_Matthew, stop this madness!" Sam was coughing, the wind knocked from his lungs. He was held upright by the spirit's force, a crushing weight against his chest. "MATTHEW!" Duane screamed. "Show yourself!"

"Why do you hunt me, brother?" A faded voice echoed through the room, assaulting the hunters' ears with a gravelly scratch.

"You're hurting people. Remember Matthew? That was your greatest fear. You were afraid your gifts would allow you to hurt people. Let him go."

"My gifts didn't make me hurt people. People hurt me because of my gifts!" Matthew growled, another gust of wind rising around him. Duane was knocked to the deck, his head hitting hard as the wind rushed him and impacted Sam.

"GAAAAHHHHHhhhhh!" Sam cried, trying desperately to breathe. He felt crushed, the metal groaning behind him. Sam gasped; feeling like Matthew was trying to push him through the metal of the bulkhead. "Mat-thew…unhh….you don'…wanna…do this. Guh…Duane…look….at…your brother." Matthew turned and took in his prone brother on the floor. He turned back to Sam, a dark look crossing his features.

"You made him hunt me! You made him get hurt!" The red eyes flared and glowed as Sam felt himself pushed harder into the unforgiving steel wall, his battered body sliding up the metal until his feet hovered nearly a foot above the floor.

"Guh…huuuuhhhh" Sam tried to breathe, vibration of the groaning steel echoing through his back. The rivets to the right of his head snapped, one of the splintered metal heads slicing into his cheek as it hit his face. His face screwed up in pain as the panel behind him buckled. "Unn." The shotgun roared and Matthew howled, dispersing again. Sam fell, his legs unable to support his weight as his feet impacted the steel deck hard enough to sting. His body folded in on itself and he crumbled to the floor, panting and writhing in pain as he tried to breathe through the agony of having his body pressed into a steel wall.

Duane lowered his arm from where he'd pushed himself up on an elbow to fire the shotgun. The gun clattered to the deck again. "Sam." Duane said breathlessly, his fingers going up to touch the cut at his temple. He winced. "Sam, you alright?"

_April 14__th__, 2008._

"Doctor Bevin." Maggie said as she jogged to catch up with Sam's doctor. "Mitch!"

"Maggie, I thought you were off for the weekend?"

"It's Dean Wilson. He wishes to see you. Something about his brother Sam."

"Okay. I was just on my way to see him anyway before I finish my rounds."

They walked in silence back to Sam's room. Maggie was terrified at the prospect of what Dean could come up with to get Sam out of here. Knocking on the door Maggie opened it and went inside to stand quietly, watching Dean as he began his act. He was pacing across the room as the doctor walked in. Dean rounded on the confused man as soon as he allowed the door to close behind him.

"Have you figured out what's wrong with m' brother?"

"The tests are still inconclusive. I'm sorry."

"Then I want to take him somewhere where someone can figure it out. He obviously can't get that care here!"

"Dean I assure you we're doing everything we can for Sam. Without knowing what is causing the state he's in we don't know how to treat him for it. He's comfortable, not in any pain. If he's moved that could change."

"So you're telling me that if I have my brother moved to someplace where someone knows something and he gets worse that it's _my fault?!_"

Maggie had to fight to contain the smirk that came to her face. _Oh, you're good. I don't know who you are, but you're good._ Mitch Bevin was a great doctor and her friend but Maggie knew, somehow, deep down that Dean was the only person who had any hope of saving Sam from whatever was happening to him and his way was the only way it could be done.

Doctor Bevin was becoming red in the face, looking flustered. "Mr. Wilson, I assure you that it wouldn't be your fault. I just believe that Sam should remain here. That it's in his best interest not to take the chance of disturbing him."

"If disturbing him means that he wakes up then it _should _be in his best interest to disturb the hell out of him." Dean paused and crossed his arms in front of his chest, sizing up the squirming doctor. "Oh, I get it. You want the insurance money. That's why he's here and that's why you say you can't do anything for him. The longer he's here the more you can charge. Huh, wouldn't the proper authorities get a kick outta that."

"Not at all Mr. Wilson. I assure you that this facility is only interested in providing the best care for each patient, regardless of means to pay for that care." Maggie piped up, now knowing her part in the charade. "We take on hundreds of patients a year that have no insurance and little money to set aside for care."

Dean rounded on the red headed nurse, winking at her when the doc couldn't see. "So if you're interested in the best care for each patient, and yet you can't help my brother shouldn't you be interested in finding him someone who can?"

Maggie opened her mouth again but Bevin cut her off. "Of course it is. We'll arrange to have him moved to another facility of your choosing immediately. We're also going to take care of the terms of care ourselves. You will not receive a bill."

"I have a private care facility lined up that I want to move him to myself. He's stable to transport?"

"Yes."

"Good. I'll sign his release forms now." Doctor Bevin ran a hand over his now haggard features and left the room wordlessly. Maggie stared at Dean who met her eyes with a smirk on his face.

"You are crazy." She said.

"What? It worked didn't it?" Dean lost the smirk and walked to Sam's side, easing down on the chair again. He reached out over the lowered rail and ran a thumb over Sam's forehead. "I'm going to help you. I promise." He said softly, for Sam's ears alone.

_Somewhere in the Mist, April 14, 1912._

Sam lay on the steel deck, trying to fight of the blackness on the edges of his vision. He couldn't breathe, his back was on fire. He put his sweaty forehead to the cool steel of the deck and nodded, his forehead wrinkling and relaxing with the motion. He breathed raggedly and coughed, a groan sounding on the end of the cough. His eyes closed and he stilled until he sensed Duane pushing himself to his feet and coming over to him. Duane had crouched down beside him when he finally forced his eyes open to take in the concerned gaze of his brother's look-alike.

"You alright?"

"Unn, ah, yeah. Think so. Help me up." Duane got Sam gently under the arms and Sam twisted onto his side, hiding a grimace as his back flared to life, and allowed Duane to steady him.

"Okay?" Duane asked, halting the motion and allowing Sam to catch his breath again. On Sam's nod he hauled him to his feet, putting a hand to his chest to steady him. Sam was content to just stand there for a moment, until he finally felt steady enough to pull away. Sam rolled his shoulders to loosen the building stiffness and turned to the buckled bulkhead wall. Duane reached out and grabbed the edge of the metal where it had popped the rivets. Sam wiped dripping blood from his cheek. The steel groaned when Duane put his strength behind his grasp and pulled. The rivets held but the steel tore away from them, the holes that allowed the rivets through tearing like paper from a notebook. Sam stepped up and helped what he could, ignoring the pain in his back. They peeled back the steel and opened the airspace behind. Crumpled inside on the floor were the remains of Duane's little brother. The bones were covered in the tattered, rotting clothing and bits of shriveled, dry flesh clung to the emaciated form. It looked as though he'd been sitting against the back of the hull plates, with his knees drawn up to his chest. When he had died, he had slumped sideways.

"Eleven months." Duane said softly, sadly. He was looking at his brother's remains stoically, but as Sam looked on Duane dropped his gaze and a single tear worked its way down his cheek.

"I'm sorry."

Duane nodded and then looked back at the hull plate that they had torn away with their bare hands. He snorted a laugh, that sarcastic sound that Sam knew all too well.

"Matt was right. They did use cut rate steel."

"Probably why twelve square feet of damage was enough to bring her down." Sam said, and then his head shot up. Something caught his sharp ears. It was the whispers. They quickly gained in intensity, making Sam feel like he was suffocating. He groaned and shot his hands to his ears. "Ahh…God."

"I hear them too Sam." Duane said as pain flickered across his features. He squinted his eyes and turned his head away from the direction of the noise. He raised the shotgun as he saw Matthew flicker into sight behind Sam. "Sam, drop!" Duane said. Sam instantly obeyed, his pain riddled mind hearing Dean's voice. Sam's legs folded up and although pain flared in his back he fell to the hard deck and covered his head, keeping the butts of his large palms on his ears to block the whispers that were tearing his mind apart as surely as screams. Matthew howled again and disappeared in a cloud of gray smoke and scattering rock salt.

Sam stood. "We need to finish this. We're running out of time." Duane nodded and used his smaller stature to slide into the gap revealed when they pulled back the bulkhead. He lifted Matthew's remains in his hands, the contact with the papery skin that remained sending chills deep into the older man's spine.

"Open the boiler Sam." Sam did as told, pulling the bag of salt from the pocket of Duane's jacket as he passed with Matthew's remains in his arms. The boiler was banked, the fire smoldering but not roaring. Duane laid Matthew's remains in the banked coals, his tattered clothes and dry skin catching immediately. Sam pulled a large handful of the coarse salt from the bag and sprinkled it over Matthew. The fire flared to life, Sam feeling the heat as he staggered back. A shrill scream echoed through the boiler rooms.

**A/N: So... Dean's acting skills? Does he deserve an Academy Award or what? This was so much fun to write and I kind of had ST's snarky attitude in mind when Dean said he had a plan. Hope you all liked it. Please let me know.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks to everyone for all the amazing reviews once again. WARNING HERE: THIS CHAPTER COMES WITH A SERIOUS TISSUE ALERT!! Please review at the end, only if it's to tell me I suck! I'm so interested in hearing what you all think of this. Would Dean do it if it meant saving Sam?**

**Oh, and if you haven't already checked out Merisha's homepage to see the sketch she did for this fic, then do so because the scene that inspired it is coming up next. It's also truly beautiful! You'll be floored.**

**Chapter 5**

_April 14__th__, 2008._

Dean had Sam's release papers in hand and hastily scrawled his alias on the highlighted parts. The doctor examined Sam one last time and then looked at Dean. "Are you sure I can't talk you out of moving him?"

Dean fell into his part with ease. "Want that insurance money that bad do ya doc?"

"I want Sam to get well." The doc huffed.

"Look, I know you do and I'm sorry. I just don't think he _can_ get well here."

"I hope for the best, whether he's my patient or not." The doc left the room. Dean looked at Maggie.

"We get Sammy back; remind me to apologize to him." Dean reached out and pulled the lead from Sam's chest that went to the heart monitor. Maggie quickly turned off the now monotone squeal. "I'm gonna go pull my car closer and get her warmed up some. It's cold out and we're running out of time." Dean said as he cast a glance at the clock on the wall. It read 11:19. Dean left the room, his sense of urgency taking hold of Maggie. Dean returned a few minutes later with a bundle of clothes in his arms. He flipped the covers off of his brother and Maggie helped to get Sam into jeans and a warm, soft flannel shirt, leaving the hospital t-shirt on beneath it. Sam never moved, never made a sound.

"What's next?" Maggie asked.

"We get him to my car." Maggie left the room and quickly returned with a wheelchair. They hefted Sam from the bed and put him in the chair, situating him that he was safely seated and wouldn't fall out. His head lolled on his shoulders until his chin came to rest against his chest. Dean crouched in front of Sam and pushed the hair back from his closed eyes with a gentle hand. They wheeled him out into the corridor and down the hall to the elevator. At the car Maggie helped to ease Sam into the back seat, laying his long frame out as comfortably as they could. Smoothing his hair back again, he shut the door softly and climbed into the driver's seat, waiting for Maggie to circle and claim Sam's rightful place. A spike of sadness lanced Dean._ I will get you back Sammy. This will work. There's no other option, you hear me? No other option._

_Somewhere in the Mist, April 14__th__, 1912._

Emily was watching the ocean intently, something telling her not to take her eyes from the completely calm surface of the water. A low lying mist caught her eye directly ahead of the ship. She peered into the mist and could just barely make out a hulking shape in the water. Then she heard something over the calm ocean. It sounded like hushed voices as she strained to make out what they're saying. The whispers faded and Emily heard a shout from the deck above her where the two lookouts were keeping watch. "Oh dear Lord!" One of the men said, diving quickly for the phone, while the other rang a bell three times. Emily saw the young man gesturing to the ocean and frantically shouting through his connection to the bridge. She cast her eyes out to the ocean again to see an iceberg though the mist. "Oh my God!" She cried out, running from the boat deck and to the elevator.

Sam pushed the boiler door shut as the last of the remains turned to ash. Duane had turned away from the fire several minutes ago, unable to watch as all that was left of his brother was taken from him.

"Hey man. You okay?" Sam asked, walking up to Duane and putting his large hand on Duane's shoulder.

"I'm glad he's finally at peace but… that was hard. I…" Duane trailed off as the ship protested, shuddering to a full stop before lurching backwards. Duane heard the turbines for the engines on the deck above them whine and come to life. "What's goin' on?"

"What time is it?" Sam asked urgently. Duane pulled his watch from his pocket, spurred on by Sam's anxiousness. Before he could answer the ship shuddered again and a grating rumble sounded out, echoing throughout and deafening Sam and Duane. Sam spun in the direction of the sound and knew exactly what time it was. "WE GOTTA MOVE, NOW!" He grabbed Duane's arm and took off at a run, letting go when the older man fell into step beside him. They heard an alarm and the steel doors began to slide closed, the heavy metal bulkheads that made up the water tight doors began sliding down from the decks above. They made it under the first two doors without ducking before they came out of the ceiling above; crouched under two more and Sam made it under the fifth by throwing himself into a slide that reminded him of playing baseball in ninth grade. Duane was cut off as the door slammed home.

"SAM!" Duane screamed.

Sam turned back and pounded on the bulkhead when he heard Duane's muffled voice coming from the other side. "Dude, there's an escape ladder over your head! Use it to get to the next deck up. I'll meet you there!"

Sam barreled up the staircase to the Orlop Deck. He waited until he heard pounding footsteps and then he breathed a sigh of relief. That was short lived as he saw Emily round the corner. "Emily!" He cried. She ran to him and he caught her in his arms, pulling her in for a hug. He pulled back after she caught her breath, keeping his hands on her shoulders. "Oh god, what the hell are you doin' here? I told you to stay up on the Boat Deck."

"I saw the iceberg. We hit it. I had to find you. Where's Duane?"

"Miss Emily?!" Duane called out as he rounded the corner. "Sam, are you alright?"

"Yeah. We're alright. Emily just told me that we hit the iceberg." Duane heard the sound of water. He turned away from Sam and the girl in his arms. He saw water come around the corner of the corridor that he'd just been in.

"We have to move." Duane said, stepping up to Emily's other side and taking her hand. They set the pace, pulling her as fast as she could run down the carpeted corridor and towards the stairs. She kept up, fear giving her speed as her hands remained tight in Duane's and Sam's. They turned and headed for the stairs, water lapping at their heels until they cleared the bottom of the stairs.

"We have to get to the Boat deck. We don't have long until they start loading the life boats. Emily, you're going to be on one of them."

Emily stopped suddenly, pulling out of their hands. "Emily?" Sam said, reaching out for her again. She stepped back, the water only a few feet behind her. "Emily, we have to go."

"Robert is dead isn't he?"

Sam's eyes dropped. "Yes. I'm sorry."

"As miserable as I was with Robert, I have no one now. I'm in charge of my life. I'm not just going to get on a lifeboat and leave two heroes to a watery grave. I know there was something …strange going on here and I know you stopped it. I cannot just slip away while I take the chance of losing you too."

"Okay." Duane said. "We're in this together." He reached for Emily as she looked at Sam who was openly glaring at Duane.

"Duane, what the hell?" Sam said, glaring at his brother's look alike. He pulled Duane aside and put a large hand on both shoulders. "Man, what are you thinking?! Women and children first. That's what they do with the life boats. If she's not on one she'll die! She will _freeze_ to death in that water!"

"Listen, we get her up on the deck I'll get her on a boat. She will be safe, I promise man. And you, what about you? Sam, you don't even belong here! What's going to happen to you? When do you go back? The hunt is finished, why are you here?" Duane said quietly, in tones that Emily couldn't hear.

"Because I don't know how to go back! I tried to reach for Dean. I have tried and I can't find my brother. I don't know if I'm supposed to go back."

"What are you talking about?! Of course you're supposed to go back! Your brother needs you. We get out of this you reach for him. You go back, you hear me?"

Sam cast a glance behind him to see the water topping the stairs. "If we get out of this I'll find a way back. But now, we gotta move."

"Emily." Duane reached out and she came to them. Clasping her hands again they began moving through the ship to get to the higher decks. They reached the F-deck to find mail clerks trying to haul the sacks up from the G-deck mailroom. They skirted the harried men and kept making their way up the stairs. The ship was leaning now, and Emily lost her balance, only Sam's hold keeping her upright.

"Duane, move ahead of us. I've got her." Sam said urgently. They ran into a steward by the time they had reached the C-deck. He was fighting with a little girl and her father. The girl's father was trying to get the little brown haired girl, who to Sam looked about six, to go with the steward. The little girl clung to her father's waist and refused to leave.

Duane walked up to the steward just as the man sneered at the little girl and said, "Fine, she can stay with you. I'm done with this third class obligation."

Duane pulled back a fist and let it fly before Sam could stop him. The steward howled and clutched at his nose, which had begun spurting blood. "No account bastard. All you stupid people care about is class. What happened to life?!"

"Duane, there's no time."

"You're right." Duane said, shoving the steward away. He turned to the father of the little girl. "Can I take her to the lifeboats?"

"Oh, please." The man said with a thick English Accent. "Go with the good man, Ethet."

"Papa."

"I love you little one." He said as he kissed his daughter's forehead. She turned from her father's grasp and Duane swung her up into his arms.

"Sir, your name?" The man asked Duane.

"Duane Williams." He answered, putting a soft hand to the back of the little girl's head.

"I'll tell of your heroism and hold your spot in heaven, sir. Thank you for saving my daughter." She wrapped her legs and arms around him and buried her face in his neck, crying softly. Duane smiled grimly at the man and the four of them moved away from him as the water came to their ankles. They climbed another set of stairs, reaching the top just as the lights blinked once and then came back on. Ethet screamed and clutched Duane tighter as Sam wrapped his arm around Emily.

"Don't let go Sam." Emily whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. His arm tightened convulsively around her waist. They made it over B-deck and up the stairs to the A- deck and then finally onto the Boat deck uneventfully, the water right behind them.

_April 14, 2008._

Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot at the Bar Harbor Freight Company, his shell shocked mind thinking of no other place where he could do this awful thing to his baby brother in peace. He just prayed it worked or he would be killing Sam. He would be killing both of them. He opened the car door wordlessly after putting it into park and shutting off her rumbling engine. Maggie slid from the passenger seat, Dean's stoic silence warning her just how touchy this situation was for the brothers. Dean opened the back door and reached in for Sam. He crawled inside the large car and crouched by his brother's unresponsive form, brushing hair out of his eyes once again._ Please let this work. I can't do this and still lose you man. We're both walkin' into the ocean man. If this doesn't work, neither one of us are comin' out._ "Come on Sammy." Dean whispered as he pulled his brother upright and into his arms. Maggie wordlessly reached in to help and grabbed Sam's feet. Together they got his long frame out of the back seat and eased him down onto the pavement before Dean swept a strong arm beneath his knees and stood, cradling Sam to his chest like an infant. Dean stood with rippling muscles and not even a grunt as he held his brother's weight. He turned to the ocean and watched the heavy mist roll in. He knew then that this was what had to happen. The mist held the same faraway glow that it had the first time he'd seen it. There was something out there and _it had Sam_. Dean was determined to get him back._ Or join him._

Dean shifted Sam in his arms so that his brother's head rested against his shoulder. Walking across the lot and down into the sand of the small beach he realized they were alone except for Maggie, who'd remained silent, following a few paces behind Dean. The hunter stepped up to the waves that climbed the sand to lap at his boots.

"Thanks for your help Maggie. It's my fight now." Dean said, not looking back but instead allowing his troubled green eyes to roam over his brother's lax features.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'll help you with him when you come back out." Maggie breathed. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw Dean's shoulders square. The mist had rolled in and was snaking around his ankles. Dean stepped into the water, the cold biting deep into his bones. He remained silent, his feet planted on the sand beneath the water. Dean walked forward, blinking away the moisture that had accumulated in his green eyes. He was now knee deep and stepped forward again. When he'd begun to feel the cold of the water now numbing his waist he focused on the mist, clearing his mind. The whispers rose up, surrounding him and Sam in their mystery. He looked again at Sam's face and moved his body forward, slowly lowering them both into the water. Sam's weight began to lessen as the water buoyed him. Dean shifted Sam so that his head rested just on the surface off the water, his unruly hair beginning to float around his head.

Tears clouded Dean's vision as he stared at his brother's face. He could no longer blink them back and they coursed down his cheeks to fall into the ocean around them, salt mixing with salt. Dean focused on the bond he had with Sam, blocking out the whispers that were now a riot of muffled voices in the darkness. Dean blocked out the blood freezing cold, the night sounds and the waves, just focusing on Sam. He took one step further, his baby brother's head disappearing beneath the water. On the shore Maggie put her fist to her mouth to keep from crying out. Tears spilled from her green eyes to plummet to the sand at her feet.

_Somewhere in the Mist, April 15th, 1912. _

The Boat deck was pure chaos, people scrambling for lifeboats as the officers tried to maintain order. The crowd shifted, people bumping into people as the angle of the sinking ship continued to change. Duane, Sam, Emily and little Ethet forced their way through the crowd Duane holding the little girl close, his hand on the back of her head to protect her from the panicked crowd. He caught sight of an officer in charge of loading the women and children into the life boats. "Take her!" he screamed above the barrage of distraught voices. "TAKE HER!" The officer looked Duane's way and held out his arms for the little girl. Her arms tightened around Duane's neck, choking off his air supply. He turned his head and spoke into her ear. "Shhh, baby it's okay. They're going to watch out for you okay? You'll be safe with the ladies on the boat. I know you're scared but I'll make sure someone finds you. I promise. Okay baby, I promise." The terrified little girl loosened her arms and met Dean's eyes with her own tear filled brown ones. She put both of her tiny hands on either of his stubbled cheeks and smiled shyly. Then she turned from him and into the arms of the waiting officer. The man put her on the life boat, two women taking the child into their arms. The officer gave the order to lower the boat and Ethet disappeared from Duane's sight.

"Emily, you need to be on one of these boats." Sam was saying.

"No. I'm not leaving you." Sam looked around the deck taking in the last remaining life boat, a collapsible, which was quickly filling to capacity. The water was now making the boat float as people climbed aboard. One of the officers aboard pushed off with an oar and then used it to knock a man who had been clinging to the side free of the canvas. The lifeboat flipped over, spilling everyone inside with a round of screams from men and women alike. People clamored on the overturned bottom of the lifeboat. The ships bow was under the water and Sam was loosing his footing on the steep angle of the slippery steel deck. He reached a long arm out and grasped the rail, holding Emily in front of him.

"Hang on to the rail, Emily." Sam shouted in her ear over the crash of metal to metal and screams that no longer sounded human as people were crushed by the funnel that had now broken off. The lights blinked off, plunging everyone into darkness, screams sounding out at the new terror. Duane stumbled against the rail in front of them and gripped fast. Sam held Emily, the angle of the ship keeping her back tight against his chest. They used a hand over hand motion to pull themselves up the steep angle to the top of the stern which was now sticking up out of the ocean at a steep angle. "Go Emily." Sam coaxed as she froze. "I've got you. Not gonna let anything happen to you." They made it to the top of the nearly upright deck, Sam seeing debris floating on the ocean surface through the mist.

"We've gotta jump!" Sam said, screaming to be heard over groaning steel.

"What?" Emily cried.

"Listen, this half of the ship is going to break free and fall. If we're still on it we will be killed. We have to jump and clear the ship as quick as possible. Emily, I promised you nothing is going to happen to you and I mean that. You just gotta trust me."

"I do." She answered, looking deep into his hazel eyes with her blue ones.

"Then jump!" Duane went over the rail, using his strong arms to shove himself as far away from the ship as he could. Sam watched as he hit the water hard, about twenty feet from the edge. Emily gasped. A pit opened in Sam's stomach as he saw Duane's torso hit a narrow piece of floating metal that flipped over with his momentum. "Oh God." Sam said when he didn't see Duane surface. "Emily, you gotta go now." Emily hoisted herself over the rail and pushed off. She landed in clear water and surfaced. That was enough for Sam to follow. Sam landed in the water several yards from her, the shock of the fall and cold numbing him until the need for oxygen spurred him into action and he broke the surface, sputtering and shivering.

"Emily!"

"I'm-m okay!"

"Crawl onto that p-piece of wood. Get out of the w-water!" Emily crawled onto the floating wood, something that looked like it had been torn from one of the forward staterooms that the funnel had destroyed.

"W-where's D-Duane?" Emily asked as she flopped onto her back, her haggard breathing fogging the cold air that was making her shiver violently.

"I'm-m gonna f-find h-him. Stay p-put." Sam swam through the water, searching frantically for his brother's look alike. He found Duane several yards away, floating face down in the water. Sam got to his side and grabbed him with quickly numbing arms, flipping him back against his chest. Duane choked when his face was exposed to the air, crying out in pain as Sam's arm tightened over his chest.

"S-Sam?" Duane said, resting his head on Sam's shoulder. He couldn't force himself to open his eyes.

"I'm here, m-man." Duane coughed, a wet rasp accompanying the sound. Sam felt it then, a section of Duane's ribs moved freely of the rest. "God." _He's got a flail fracture._ Sam shifted him so that he could release his hold on Duane's ribs. "C'mon m-man. Gotta get you to that piece of p-paneling. You gotta f-fight d-dude."

Duane coughed again, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. "Hurts, Sam-my." _Oh god, he sounds like Dean. I can't let him die. Gotta fight for him. Dean, fight for Dean._ Sam's muddled, cold-numb mind struggled to concentrate on getting Duane to the debris that now carried Emily. She pushed herself up on her elbows and stopped when the wood rocked in the water.

"Stay still Emily. We c-can't risk p-putting you b-back in the w-water." Sam clung to the raised, detailed edge of the paneling and supported Duane by hooking an arm under his arms above the fracture."

Duane coughed again and blood bubbled from his lips. "Lemme go Sam. You c-can still s-survive. Your b-brother n-needs you. I ne-need to f-find M-matt."

"No man. You p-promised that l-little gi-girl you'd f-find h-her."

Duane wrenched himself from Sam's now numb grasp. He groaned, just keeping his head above water as blood dripped down his chin. "Look in on h-her f-for me." Duane's eyes closed on the last word and his head slipped beneath the black water. Sam gripped the paneling with both now empty arms and put his head on the cold wood, tears freezing on his cheeks.

"I w-will m-man. Pr-promise."

Emily looked at Sam as he raised his head feebly. Icicles had formed in his hair, the tips of the chestnut locks freezing fast to his face. His lips and fingers were blue tinged and he struggled to keep his eyes open as he treaded water sluggishly, desperately trying to keep his head above the water.

"Sam, you need to g-et out of the w-water."

"I c-can't. W-won't hold us b-b-both." Sam said, his shivering becoming more pronounced. "P-promise me s-somethin'?"

"What, Sam?"

"Y-you'll hold on t-till help c-comes."

"What's your last n-name?" She asked him through her shivers.

"Winch-chester."

"Sam Winchester." She leaned up on her elbows, careful that the rocking motion didn't disturb his weak grasp on the piece of wood. She kissed his cold lips, and warmth infused him. "I d-don't know where you came fr-from or why you're here, b-but you need to go ba-back while you c-can. I know you d-don't b-belong here. Go back Sam." Her hand reached out and brushed his as the feeling of detachment swamped him and his eyes slid closed. Whispers rose on the mist that surrounded them and Sam let go. He allowed himself to be pulled under as one voice rose above the others. Emily sobbed once and put her head to the wood beneath her. The cold claimed her before the life boat within range could, the loss of two heroes, and her friends, heavy on her heart.

_April 15__th__, 2008. 2:30 a.m._

Dean counted to sixty watching bubbles come out of his brother's nose and mouth, blinking furiously, and trying to keep his sight clear. It was impossible, the tears just kept flowing. The tears burned hot paths down his cold cheeks as he shivered, never releasing his brother. Dean choked on a sob as he realized he'd seen the last of the bubbles work its way out of Sam's mouth. "Oh G-god." Dean whispered. "_Sammy, please. Let me find you. Don't you die on me! Sammy…Please. Please man, come back to me." _Dean lifted Sam's head from the water, cradling his brother to his chest. Water streamed from Sam's mouth as his head lolled over Dean's forearm. Dean turned in the water and walked shakily back to shore. Dean hit dry sand and fell to his knees, sobbing openly, Sam still in his arms.

"Dean, put him down. We need to get him breathing again." Maggie said, breaking through Dean's fog. Dean lay Sam down on the sand and sat back on his haunches, dazed. Maggie took over, working Sam's chest to get him breathing again. The compressions seemed endless to Dean as he watched through a tear laden haze. "Come on Sam." Maggie said, in rhythm with the compressions. Dean watched as the mist shrouded them, the whispers building again. Then he heard a distinct voice on the whispers.

"_Dean, I need you man. I can't do this alone. Please, please help me. Help me bro." _ Dean's eyes closed and he reached for his brother, he followed that voice. Dean found himself walking through the mist again.

"_SAMMY!"_

"_Dean!"_

"_Where are you man?"_ Dean said as he walked through the mist that was so thick he felt blind. He heard water and screams. He heard groaning metal and splashes. Dean found the mist shrinking away as he saw his brother. The mist formed a solid wall around the two of them as the other sounds faded away. Sam was several yards away from Dean, on his knees. As Dean started to move towards Sam he saw his brother collapse to his side. Sam's head rested on the floor of the indistinct room they were in. Dean could only make out Sam, wherever they were.

"_Dean."_ Sam whispered. _"Ah, god. I'm not… strong enough. Help me. Please Dean. Help me."_ Sam pushed himself up on his elbows only to fall back to the floor. He moaned and curled in on himself.

"_Sammy," _Dean said as he rushed forward, only to feel himself held back from touching his brother, _"Damnit, Sammy, reach for me!"_ Something stopped him from getting to his brother's side. He saw Sam turn his head and look at him with pleading eyes. Sam struggled to extend a hand, letting it float in mid air for a second before falling again to the floor.

"_Dean, I hurt so bad."_ Sam whispered. Dean pushed onward, fear for his brother spurring him on.

"_DAMNIT LET ME GET TO HIM!"_ Dean screamed into the formless mist, shouting at the whispers holding him prisoner. He felt a wrenching sensation as he finally broke free of the force holding him.

He fell to the floor beside Sam and pulled his brother into his arms, Sam's side against his chest. _"I gotcha Sammy. I gotcha now and I'm not lettin' you go. Just let me get you back. I'm gonna help you."_ Sam wrapped a weak arm around Dean's middle, his hand fisting weakly in the back of Dean's shirt. Sam nodded against Dean's chest and his eyes slipped closed.

Dean's eyes snapped open as he heard his brother gag.

Maggie jumped at Sam's sudden movement, her hands stilling on his chest. "Oh God."

Dean's eyes shifted to Sam's features to see water spew from his mouth as he coughed up the ocean. Water ran back over his face and down his neck. "Sammy!" Maggie helped Dean roll Sam onto his side, while Dean held Sam's head up to keep him from gagging on the water again. Sam choked, gasping for breath as he finally vomited up the rest of the water. He stilled on the sand and Dean gathered him up into his own shaking arms. "C'mon Sammy. Gotta get you dry." Dean lifted Sam and Maggie followed quickly. "Maggie, there's f-four blankets in the t-trunk. The keys are in the ignition. P-please get the blankets; s-spread one out on the back seat so I c-can put him in the c-car." Dean said through chattering teeth. Maggie skirted them and ran to the car, her feet kicking up sand. She grabbed the keys and opened the trunk. Quickly pulling out the blankets, she closed the trunk and did as Dean asked, putting the keys back into the ignition and fired the rumbling engine. Dean lowered Sam onto the softness of the blanket and propped his head up on the door panel. He eased out of the car and let Maggie around him. "Cover him w-with the o-other two b-blankets, 'n g-give me one." Maggie covered Sam to his chin, leaving the blankets folded in half lengthwise. She took the last and opened it to half its size, quickly wrapping it around Dean's shoulders.

"Are you okay to drive?" She asked Dean, concerned about him.

"'M okay. J-just c-cold. Motel's only a couple miles d-down the r-road." Dean slid into the driver's seat and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. The heater was on high and working at warming the car. Dean gripped the wheel with shaking hands and pulled out, quickly covering the miles to the motel. Five minutes later the Impala was rumbling into the motel parking lot. Dean parked right in front of the door to their room. Getting out, he and Maggie wrestled Sam from the car and through the door, laying him on his usual bed where Dean began pulling the sodden blankets from his body.

"Dean, let me help. You need to get warm yourself."

"I have to get him dry." Dean said through clenched teeth, trying to hide his chill.

"Go get warmed up and then you can help Sam. He needs you. You can't risk getting sick yourself. Dean, please."

Dean nodded. "He has clothes in the duffel bag at the foot of the bed. Gray sweats and a blue t-shirt with an ugly ass dog on it are what he sleeps in. I'll be back in five minutes." Dean grabbed a haphazard bundle of clothing out of his own bag and went into the bathroom. He dropped the blanket, quickly followed by his sodden clothing, revealing skin that was mottled red and rough with goose bumps. He stepped into the shower and turned on the water, crying out involuntarily as the hot moisture stung his clammy skin. He cooled it down; knowing heating himself up too fast wouldn't do him any good. He closed his eyes and images came unbidden to him as the water cascaded over his bowed head. Fresh tears mingled with the warm water and flowed down his muscular body and into the drain.

He raised his head and turned off the water. Toweling off quickly he threw on the clothes and walked out of the bathroom with the towel still bunched around his shoulders. He looked to the bed where Maggie was just finishing getting Sam into his t-shirt with surprising ease. Dean stopped silently and watched the nurse as she eased Sam back onto the bed and smoothed the covers around him._ She cares about what she does._ Dean made his presence known. "Has he…?"

"No. I'm sorry. Good news is that he's stable and his lungs are clear. Everything else seems normal enough."

Dean moved to the side of the bed and sat facing his brother. He pulled the towel from his shoulders and gently began to dry Sam's hair as Maggie picked up the sodden clothing and blankets and laid them on the table in the corner of the room. She turned back to the bed and looked at the two hunters. "His pillow is damp. I'll go ask the manager for another."

"Don't bother." Dean said. "He can have mine." Maggie stepped up and pulled it from the other bed, holding it to her chest. Dean lifted Sam's head and pulled the damp pillow away. The one Maggie was holding hit the floor, punctuating Dean's whispered "Sammy" as Sam moaned.

"Sammy?" He said again, so shocked that he almost dropped Sam's head back to the mattress. "Sammy, c'mon." He lifted Sam further and slid behind him on the mattress, his back leaning against the headboard. Sam's back rested against his chest. Dean pulled the covers tighter up around Sam as he felt small tremors working their way through his brother's frame. Sam's head lolled and Dean tucked an arm around his shoulders and put his hand to Sam's cheek. Dean lowered his head to his little brother's shoulder and spoke softly into his ear.

"Hey little brother. Sammy, need you to open those eyes for me okay?" Dean reached across with the hand that wasn't cupping Sam's cheek and lifted his arm, trapping it gently between Sam's chest and his own as he held Sam tighter and began rocking gently side to side. Pleading tears welled in Dean's eyes as he locked them with Maggie's before speaking again to his brother. "Come on Sammy. Please. Please man. Need ya back. Can't do this alone. I won't. Please wake up for me. Okay?"

Then he felt it, the shift of Sam's hand moving to weakly grasp his forearm. "Okay Dean." Sam whispered. Dean breathed a laugh, tears seeping from the green eyes that he'd squeezed closed as he gripped his brother in a tight hug from behind. Maggie stumbled to the other bed and plopped down on the mattress, looking like she was in shock. She stared at the brothers, tears of joy slipping silently down her freckled cheeks.

_Somewhere in the Mist, April 18, 1912._

The _Carpathia_ pulled into North River, New York. The sun was shining and warm on the wan faces of people that began walking slowly down the gangway. Several groups of men sat behind a table and the survivors lined up to answer questions and be told where they had family waiting, if they did, or where they would be sheltered until family could be notified that their loved ones had survived. A little girl was nearly last in line, her thoughts somewhere else as she took her turn with the man at the table.

"Name, child?"

"Ethet Williams." The man wrote something in his logs and looked up. Ethet was gone. He looked around with bemusedly and then met the eyes of the next person in line, shaking his head.

"Name?"

_April 18__th__, 2008._

Dean walked through the motel door, turning to pull his key and shut it behind him, his arms laden with food and coffee, along with some orange juice. He began speaking, "I'm back with…" Dean turned around and found his brother at the laptop. "...breakfast. Sam, what the hell are you doin' out of bed?"

"'m okay Dean."

"Alright." Dean relented. "I just don't want you overdoing anything."

"Dean, I get that you're worried, but I'm okay. I promise."

"Eat something Sammy. You haven't eaten much in the last couple days. What's so freakin' fascinating with the laptop anyhow?"

"I have to find her."

"Find her? Who's her?"

"Ethet."

"The chick that you saved aboard the ship? Sammy," Dean said, walking over to pull out the opposite chair and push the laptop away so his brother raised his head to meet his gaze, green to hazel, "You said it yourself man, you didn't see all the people that were aboard the ship when it first sank. You said the survivors weren't there. If she was there then she didn't survive man. Even if by some chance she did, she'd be what now…"

Sam cut him off. "No man. Little Ethet. She was like, six. Duane got her aboard one of the lifeboats. I saw it row away with her. She had to have survived man."

"My look alike?" Sam had told him everything that had happened as he rested to regain his strength. Dean was still trying to put things together.

"Yeah."

"Sammy, why are you obsessing over this, dude?"

Sam met Dean's eyes. "Because I promised him I'd look in on her." Sam deadpanned. "I promised him before he died." Sam finished softly.

Dean reached across the table and cupped Sam's jaw below his ear. Sam leaned into the contact, his hazel eyes shifting to rest on the table top. "I know you're here man. I just gotta know what happened to her." He said softly.

"I know ya do. I just don't want you to overdo anything. I almost lost you. Let me help." Sam swallowed and his head bobbed in assent. Dean pulled his hand back and opened the take out bags he'd gotten from the restaurant a couple blocks from the motel. They ate in comfortable silence and cleaned up. Sam went back to the laptop and Dean moved to his bed, pulling a well used whetstone from the weapons duffel. He took out his pocket knife and began running it smoothly over the gritty stone, soon honing it to a razor sharpness that he tested by shaving a spot on his arm, fine golden hairs coming off cleanly with pressure so light Dean could hardly feel the blade. He ran the blade over the soft leather pouch that the stone was kept in to seal the pores of the steel. He'd just snapped it closed and used a screwdriver to tighten the hinge when Sam spoke.

"Holy…"

Dean got up from the bed and walked over to stand behind Sam, his hand resting on his brother's shoulder as he looked at the computer screen. Sam looked up at Dean.

"I found her."

"Where to?"

"New York. She lives in North River, the city where the _Carpathia_ took the survivors. She just turned one hundred and three. Made the papers, there's four generations living, all women. Dean, I'm sorry. I gotta do this. I've gotta talk to her."

"Then we'll do it."

Twenty minutes later they were packed. Dean had checked them out and was putting their bags in the trunk when his phone rang. "Hello?" He said, not recognizing the number.

"_Dean, its Maggie. I got your number from Sam's records. Wanted to see how he was doing this morning."_

"He's okay. Geek boy was doing research this morning. We're leaving town."

"_Back to doing what you do best?" _She asked, sounding wistful.

"Not yet. Got a couple people to see first."

"_Bobby?"_

"Among others."

"_You have to pass the hospital on your way out of town?"_

"We're going to. We're headed south before we haul ass to South Dakota. We were going to come see you, if that's okay?"

"_I'm just starting my break. I'll be out front."_

Dean snapped his phone closed and turned as Sam came out of the room with his messenger bag slung over his shoulder. "That's the last of it." He said, opening the passenger door and putting the bag on the back seat.

Sam stood still and looked over the roof at Dean when he spoke. "We have someone to see before we hit the road."

"Who?"

"Maggie. She'll kick my ass if we leave without saying goodbye." Dean smiled at Sam and got in the car. Doors slammed in unison, Dean grinned at Sam as he just rolled his eyes. The engine rumbled to life and the car pulled out. The drive only took five minutes and soon they had pulled up to the front entrance of the hospital. Maggie stepped into the sunshine and smiled, her red hair shining as the braid hung over the shoulder of her green scrubs. Dean killed the engine and stepped from the car, Sam right behind him. Maggie threw her arms around Sam and hugged him.

"I'm so glad to see you're okay Sam."

"Yeah, 'm fine now. Thanks to you and Dean." Sam said as he returned the squeeze. She pulled back and looked between the brothers. Sam got the hint. "I'll be in the car. See you around Maggie."

"Take care Sam." She smiled at him and turned to Dean. "Y'know, when you told me what you were going to do and that it was the only way to bring him back I thought you were nuts."

I was gettin' there." Dean said, running his right hand over the back of his neck as he grinned sheepishly at her.

"I know. I was too. Watching you having to go through that, to put him through that… it was awful."

"Thanks for bein' there, Mags."

She stepped closer to him and his hands snaked out, going around her waist as he pulled her closer and kissed her. His head dipped and he deepened the kiss as he felt her respond. They parted a full minute later, both breathless. Dean's right hand stayed on her waist as his left toyed with her long braid. Her green eyes met his. "Take care of yourself Dean. And take care of Sam." Dean nodded in response and headed back to the car. Maggie waved as they drove away.

_New York, April 18__th__, 2008. _

Nine hours had passed in the Impala. The closer they got to New York the more sullen and quietly nervous Sam became. Dean finally pulled off into a rest area just over the border into New York and killed the engine. "Get out of the car Sam."

"Huh?" Sam asked, his hands still twisted in his lap, paper lying in bits beneath his long fingers as the rest was crumpled repeatedly.

"Get out. We need a break. If you don't breathe I'm gonna kick your ass. Calm the hell down Sammy. Come on, I want some M&M's."

"Wonder if they have coffee?" Sam said, following Dean inside the rest area's convenience store.

"Oh hell no! No coffee for you. You're bad enough without caffeine." Dean marched to one of the coolers and pulled a bottle of Orange juice out. He tossed it to Sam and picked up two packages of peanut M&M's for himself, along with a Pepsi. Dean paid and tore into the first pack while they walked back to the car.

"You done acting like you're going to an execution?"

"Yeah. It's just freaky y'know."

"I get it Sammy. Now, read me the directions to the house we're lookin' for." Sam picked up the paper he'd been shredding and grinned sheepishly at Dean as he smoothed it out by pulling it back and forth over his jean clad knee.

"Is there anything left you can read?" Dean said, grinning.

"Shut up Dean."

"Hey man, I can't help it if you played human confetti cannon with our directions."

"We're a half hour from her house." Sam deadpanned. Dean pulled out and Sam spouted directions. Soon they were pulling up to a large stone townhouse with a dark green sedan parked in the paved drive. "This is it Dean." Sam said, looking like he was ready to pass out.

"Dude, we don't have to do this. You know she lived."

"I need to know her story. It's what he would have wanted." Dean shut off the car and Sam got out. They knocked on the dark red door of the stone house and heard footsteps on the other side. The door opened to reveal a small stature, brown haired woman with dark eyes. She was talking to a small child with long dark hair that stood just behind her staring at the strangers on the doorstep. Sam had locked eyes with the little girl and his mouth dropped open.

"Yes?" She said as she smiled and finally looked up at the brothers' faces. Her hand shot to her throat. "Oh my God. Emily, go get Gran. Hurry sweetie."

"Emily?" Sam chirped.

"Please come in. Grandma Ethet will be so happy to see you."

"How do you know…?" Dean stopped as a gray haired woman came up to the door. For over a hundred she didn't look a day over seventy. She stood straight, walking unassisted as she came up to the door behind the younger woman who still stood transfixed.

"You look just like them." The woman said in a clear voice full of wonder.

"Them?" Dean echoed.

"The heroes that saved me that night. Please say you'll come in? Granddaughter, would you make them some coffee?"

"Yes, Gran." The Winchesters stepped through the doorway and into a house with rich colored hardwood floors, stenciled designs on the drywall and a vase of fresh flowers on every table in the rooms they walked though. Dean looked at the granddaughter as she continued to stare at them as if they were ghosts.

"You have a beautiful home Mrs. Williams." Sam said.

"Please, it's Ethet. And don't mind Eliza. She's just thinking she's seen ghosts. I'll explain everything but first you must tell me your names and how you look so much like my heroes." She said as she led them through the great room to a small sitting room off the left of the entry.

"I'm Sam and this is my brother, Dean."

"What do you mean we look like them?" Dean asked, still unable to piece together parts of Sam's story. Ethet looked at the little girl who stood near the chair that she'd settled into. Even the little girl kept looking at the brothers in awe.

"Emily, go get the book please. It's time to tell a story." Ethet said as she folded her hands in her lap.

"Yes Gran." The little girl said as she darted from the room and returned seconds later with a large photo album that looked as old as the woman in front of them and still perfectly intact. Handing it to Ethet, she settled on the small rocking chair that sat near the couch and watched her grandmother, looking like she was about to hear the most amazing story. Ethet reverently opened the album's cover.

"You are here to learn the story?" She asked.

"Yes." Sam answered.

Ethet leaned forward in the chair and turned the album so they could see. "The man I took my name from was one of the men who saved me that night. This," she said, pointing to a picture of a little girl, black and white and yellowed with age, "is me."

"Little Emily looks exactly like you did at that age." Sam said looking over at the rapt little girl in the rocking chair, taking in her brown hair and dark eyes.

"I'm as pretty as Gran?" The little girl asked Sam, showing dimples in her smile.

"Yes, you are." Sam said; the little girl's smile infectious as he returned it.

Ethet turned the page, drawing the brothers' attention back to the book, the next two pages containing only one thing each. A black ink sketch took up each of the pages entirely. The ink blended in vibrant black in places and wisps of the faintest lines in others. Lifelike portraits stared back at the two young men as Ethet watched their reactions carefully. Two chins dropped slightly as the Winchesters found them staring at themselves. Sam's was just as he remembered, his hair unruly, eyes filled with concern and sadness. Then he knew that these images were from a little girl's memory, the last time she saw the two strangers who had cared about her more than themselves. He imagined the look on his face in the sketch as being the last thing she saw as the lifeboat was lowered over the edge and into the night.

Dean stared. The picture _was _him. Sure the hair was longer, tied back but breaking free of it's confinement as if whipped by the wind. The strong jaw and piercing eyes that looked back at him, although in black ink were _his._ It was his face, right down to the smattering of freckles over his nose and cheeks and the stubble on his jaw. _Christ, no wonder Sammy has had a hard time dealing. He feels like he lost _me_ that night._ Dean's thoughts were broken up as Eliza came back in with two cups of coffee and two cups of tea on a tray along with some small turnovers and a hot chocolate for Emily. She sat the tray on the table and gave the Winchesters their coffee before handing a cup of tea to her grandmother who placed it on the small table between them. Everyone was silent for a moment before Ethet spoke again.

"These are my heroes." She said simply. Sam tried to come up with a plausible story to explain their appearances to her, but for the first time in twenty years of lying he was unable to think of the words.

"Seeing you two is a shock." Eliza said, sipping her tea. "Gran has told us the story so much, at our request, that we feel like we were there. It was just like you two came out of the mist." Sam and Dean both choked on their coffee at Eliza's choice of words.

Covering quickly Sam asked Ethet, "Do you know if Emily survived?"

"I'm sorry, no. I never saw her again. My Granddaughter's name sake was beautiful." She said as she turned the page again to show them another smaller sketch. In it was a woman with long blond hair that hung down her shoulders in soft waves. She had a small sad smile playing on her lips and eyes Dean figured would probably have been blue by the faint shading of the black and white sketch. _Jess, she looks like Jess. _Dean cast a worried glance at Sam to see his eyes fill with moisture. Dean's followed suit as concern for his brother darkened the bright green to a stormy shade.

"Yes, she was." Sam said quietly as he looked at the picture. "Ethet, what happened to you after the ship sank?" He asked; his need to know taking control.

"Duane handed me to Second Officer Lightoller. He put me in a lifeboat and two women took me. They kept me warm. We were picked up by the _Carpathia._ Then when we got to New York one of the women found her husband had survived to be picked up by a different lifeboat after the ship had went down. They adopted me, allowing me to keep the name I'd chosen to give to the authorities on the pier when we left the _Carpathia._ My father had called Duane a hero and I wanted so badly to remember him. They raised me as Ethet Williams and when they passed I inherited this house and raised my family in it. Now my granddaughter raises hers here." Ethet gestured to Emily, who was in her mother's lap, asleep now. "I've had a good life. Tonight brings me much joy, meeting the sons of my heroes... and heroes in their own right I suspect." Ethet said as she looked at the two quiet men seated on her couch.

**A/N: Does it help at all to know that this was harder to write than the other chapters 'cuz half the time I couldn't see the keyboard through tears? Let me know what you think.**


	6. Epilogue

**A/N: Well, here it is. The last chapter. I'm hoping it answers the rest of your questions and ends things on a good note for you. Thanks for all the amazing reviews. I've seen some new names and some great friends back for more. Thanks to you all! Enjoy.**

_Epilogue: __April 19th, 2008_

It was nearly ten p.m. when they finally said goodbye to Ethet and her family. Sam felt better for knowing he'd fulfilled a promise not made lightly. Dean knew now why he had to keep that promise. After exchanging numbers with Eliza they left the house and checked into a motel for the night. Once settled in and ready for bed Dean watched his brother, wondering as he took in Sam's troubled eyes what was really going on. He opened his mouth to ask, but Sam beat him to it as he came to sit on the opposite bed, lowering is elbows to his sweat clad thighs as he leaned forward and met Dean's green gaze.

"It was hard, Dean." Sam breathed a laugh that sounded more like a strangled sob. "I saw these people, maids and sailors. I talked to them. They were hard working, happy with their lives, y'know? It was so hard to look at them and not shout for them to run screaming from the lower decks. It was just… so…damned… hard… to let them die." Sam raised a hand to his forehead and rubbed at it before allowing it to drop back to his lap, his eyes sliding to take in the floor, their lids blinking rapidly.

"I know I couldn't have looked at those people and kept my mouth shut. You're strong Sammy, way stronger than me. You did the right thing."

"How do you figure?" Sam said, raising his eyes to look at his brother again.

"Those people were already gone. You said that yourself. And even if they weren't, if some of them got off, like Ethet, if you had warned them and they beat another survivor out of a place on a boat who knows what would have been changed. Man, that ship sinking affected the whole world. It had to go down, in 1912 and again that night." Dean reached across the small space that separated him from his brother and brushed back Sam's hair. "I'm glad you were strong enough to come back Sam. Not sure I would've been." Dean let go of Sam and leaned back on the bed. "It's good to have my sidekick back in action."

Sam glared at his brother before breathing a laugh. "Jerk." He said, grinning as he grabbed his pillow and whipped it at Dean. Dean sat up, catching the pillow. He whipped it back at Sam, the younger hunter catching it just before it hit him in the face.

"Get some sleep, bitch." Dean said, flopping back on his bed. "Sammy?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to try and find out what happened to Emily? I'm willing to help."

"Y'know, I don't think so. I think she needs to rest... wherever she is...undisturbed."

Sam laid back and Dean fell asleep after he heard Sam's breathing deepen and even out.

The next morning as they were loading the car Dean called Bobby to let him know they were on their way to South Dakota. The hit the road, talking amicably over the quiet music.

Dean had pulled into a gas station in Illinois several hours later to fill the car. He was inside paying when Sam's cell phone rang.

"Hello?" Sam answered when he didn't immediately recognize the number.

"_Sam__? It's __Eliza__."_ Something in the tone of the voice on the other end brought him to attention and he straightened in the seat.

"Eliza, what is it?"

"_Gran died in her sleep last night."_

"Oh God." Sam whispered, blinking back tears. "I'm sorry."

"_She wrote me a letter and said I was supposed to read something to you from her album. There's a new sketch and a note in it."_

"There is?"

"_It's of the two of you. She memorized your faces so many ways. You and __Dean__ are sitting on her couch. My daughter is between the two of you in the sketch. Did she sit with you before I brought the tray in last night?"_

"No she didn't."

"_Then the little girl _is_ Gran. That's what I thought."_

"What does the note say?"

"_It says "Meeting true heroes twice in a lifetime is a rare and wonderful experience. I hold that joy in my heart as I go off into the mist." _Eliza sobbed once over the line and took a breath. Sam steeled himself as she continued to speak._ "'I wished to be a legacy for a hero, two heroes, but I realize now that a legacy lives, more powerful than I. I am but one of many grateful lives saved along the way.'" _Eliza sighed. _"She wished for me to send you the four drawings and a sealed letter. That was written in the note she left me. She wrote that last night too I imagine."_

"It's really not necessary Eliza. Seeing it was enough."

"_Please __Sam__. It was her wish. We have a lifetime of memories with Gran. That's enough for us."_

Sam gave Eliza Bobby's address in South Dakota and said he'd call her when he got the package. Dean got back into the car just as Sam ended the call.

Dean looked at his brother's pale face. "Sammy?"

"Ethet died in her sleep last night. She was happy. Eliza's sending us what Ethet drew and the letter she wrote after we left last night. It was her last wish that we get those things. Told her to send 'em to Bobby's."

"I'm glad we found her Sammy." Dean said as he turned in the seat and clasped Sam's shoulder.

"Me too."

_April 21st, 2008__._

Bobby stepped out onto the porch of his house nestled in the center of his salvage yard as a familiar rumbling greeted his ears. He watched as a large black car glided to a stop next to his beat up blue truck. He was off the porch and at the car as the boys, _his boys_, climbed out of the Impala. The sun was just setting.

"Hey Bobby." Dean said, hugging the older man as he walked up to them.

Bobby returned the hug complete with a pat on the back. "Good to see ya boy." Sam came around the car.

"Hey Bobby." Sam echoed Dean's earlier words. Bobby turned as Sam clapped him on the shoulder. Bobby shrugged off Sam's arm and jerked him in for a rib breaking bear hug.

"Damn, it's good to see you kid." Bobby said as his normally gruff voice softened. He lifted a hand to the back of Sam's neck and held him tight. "You had me worried." He pulled back and put both hands to Sam's jaw, looking at him with sharp but happy eyes.

"I'm sorry Bobby."

"Don't be sorry boy. Just be okay."

"I am." Sam promised as he hugged the old man once more that he'd come to think of as a second father. Dean had their bags in hand and the three of them went into the house, their only other real home next to the Impala. If the Salvage Yard had ears, quiet voices and laughter would have been heard for most of the night.

**A/N: Hope you'll let me know what you thought of this one. ST: Thanks for the challenge. Doing all the research and finding out the things I did gave me an appreciation for things I never paid attention to before. Thanks girl and I hope you really liked this. I had a blast writing it and just have to see where the stories go from here. I'm thinking about playing in Muffy Morrigan's Blood Brothers 'verse for a bit. We'll see. Thanks again. love ya all. Kris.  
**


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